Shattered Lies
by CheerfulChemist
Summary: This is an AU story that begins during "Food to Die For." Castle finds something wrong with the way Perlmutter says that Wolf died. When Beckett checks out his suspicions, it leads to a much bigger plot. And there is Maddy Queller and Kate's growing uncertainty about Demming. Cover image by @Artifex Prime.
1. Chapter 1

Shattered Lies

Chapter 1

Scowling, Perlmutter looks up. "Castle be careful! Don't you see the cones?"

The writer stares down at the M.E. "Getting into traffic control now, Perlmutter? What happened to…? Hey! That's Balthazar Wolf!"

"You know him?" Kate asks.

"Not personally, but I watched him emerge triumphant on 'Kitchen Wars.'"

"Castle, reality TV? Seriously?"

"It can be very instructive. I sent for a whole molecular gastronomy kit and learned to make my own caviar. But really, Beckett, what's your problem with reality shows?"

"That they're not real. "No one sings 'Bad Boys,' when we hit the road."

"A little jealousy perhaps?" Rick surveys the scene. "Hmm. There's a Dewar flask lying on the floor. Was Wolf using liquid nitrogen to make instant ice cream?"

Shaking his head, Perlmutter snorts. "More like a corpsesickle and someone else made it. Look at his hand. It's shattered."

Castle raises an eyebrow. "Really? Is there more than one Dewar?"

Perlmutter hisses. "No Castle, it only took one."

Rick motions Kate to a corner of the restaurant kitchen, away from Perlmutter. "This doesn't make sense, Beckett. I've used liquid nitrogen. I started having fun with it in high school, stuff like shattering rubber balls, after the chemistry and biology teachers, Mr. Pinter and Mrs. Shapiro, teamed up for a demonstration. The thing is, the lesson was about body heat, no pun or reference to Nikki intended. The liquid nitrogen could freeze inanimate objects - although not as well as you might think - Mr. Pinter still had to use a diamond chisel to smash stuff like rubber poker chips. But when Mrs. Shapiro stuck her finger, briefly, down into the stuff, nothing happened to it. That's because her body heat immediately vaporized the liquid creating an insulating layer of gas.

"It's called the Leidenfrost effect. Throwing one flask of liquid on Wolf would not have been enough to make his hand shatter, let alone kill him. His hand would have had to be immersed in the stuff, maybe by filling a larger vessel from a tank. Some upscale restaurants like this one, keep a supply around. Perlmutter's either suddenly fallen down on his basic science, or he's lying."

Kate digs her teeth into her bottom lip. "Castle, messing up his science is not like Perlmutter."

Rick's head bobs vigorously. "I know, right? He brags about how good he is at it every chance he gets."

"But if you're right, and I'm not admitting that you are, why would Perlmutter lie?"

Rick's left eyebrow rises. "That is the question, isn't it?"

* * *

Kate frowns at an article on the Leidenfrost effect, on the screen of her computer. Castle was right. Wolf might have died if he'd swallowed liquid nitrogen, but if someone had thrown the contents of the flask at him, it would have at most left some burns on his skin. Someone went to a great deal of trouble to stage a murder, and Perlmutter went along with it.

* * *

Montgomery takes a swig from his flask and offers it to Kate, who waves it away. "This is bad, Beckett, really bad. Perlmutter has testified in hundreds, maybe thousands, of cases. If his work is called into question now, the courts could be deluged with appeals. Cases could be overturned left and right, putting the bad guys back on the street."

"Or the wrongly convicted might get another chance to prove their innocence. Either way, I can't let this go, Captain."

Montgomery shoves his flask back in the drawer of his desk. "Yeah, I know. Kate, Beckett, champion of justice. Look, the first step in investigating Perlmutter will be to call in another medical examiner, one with an unassailable reputation. But usually, that's done by an M.E. or the D.A."

"Castle thinks we ought to get Clark Murray to look at Wolf's body. He is regarded as an expert throughout the state."

"Can you handle that? Murray put you through a lot of pain when he uncovered the evidence that led to Coonan."

"I agree with Castle on this exactly because Dr. Murray was able to do that when everyone else missed connecting the other murders to my mother's. If anyone can figure out what's going on with this case, he can. I can ask Lanie to reach out, but quietly, so we don't tip Perlmutter off. We can make it look like it's a request that's coming from Madison Queller, the owner of the restaurant where Wolf died, to avoid any scandal that could ruin her business. I questioned her at the scene. Turns out she's an old friend of mine from high school."

Montgomery shrugs. "Small world, but do whatever you can to make this thing work, Beckett. Get Murray on it."

* * *

Kate spots Tom Demming in the break room where he's using Castle's machine to brew himself an espresso. "Don't you have a coffee maker in the break room down in robbery?"

Demming grimaces. "Sure, but the coffee tastes like…"

"A monkey peed in battery acid?"

"That description sounds like something Castle would say. It isn't that bad, but it isn't as good as the stuff up here. And I was going to come to see you, anyway. I need to beg off for tonight. My lieutenant's on the warpath about getting our paperwork in."

Kate's annoyed at her relief. "It's fine. I had something come up with my case anyway. I may be buried for a while too."

* * *

"Dad," Alexis admonishes, "that tie will look terrible with that shirt." She picks another one from the rack. "Try this."

Rick holds it up next to his shirt before putting it around his neck. "You're right. Have you considered going into the fashion consulting business?"

"I don't think calculus and AP chemistry would do me much good."

"You may have a point, and why are you still making a frowny face?"

"Because I'm worried about you. I mean, I know you like Detective Beckett because you haven't been out on a date in months."

"Beckett's with someone else."

"That Schlemming character you suddenly had pop up from nowhere?"

"Sometimes you're just too smart; you know that? His real name is Demming, but yes. He's a detective from robbery; handsome, blue eyes, an inch taller than I am. He's in the gym even more than Beckett and coaches a team for disadvantaged youth."

"Ouch."

"I think maybe it's time for me to look elsewhere. Besides, it's just a charity fundraiser. It's not like Maddie and I are going to… Never mind. You're too young for this discussion."

Alexis rolls her eyes. "Really, Dad, sometimes I think you're the one who's too young for this discussion. I know you have sex. I just don't want you to get hurt; that's all."

"Hey, I appreciate you trying to look out for me, but I can take care of myself. When's the last time you beat me in a fencing match?"

"A year ago, but I don't think fencing is going to help you much unless you decide to challenge Demming to a duel."

Rick strokes his newly clean-shaven chin. "It's a thought."

* * *

Ryan walks up to Kate's desk holding a file. "Beckett, there's something you need to see."

Kate scans the document the detective offered. "Madison Queller had an insurance policy on Wolf?"

"Key person insurance. He was the biggest asset of their partnership. His death pays off their considerable debt. She can hire a new chef and operate Q3 completely in the clear. Nice deal, huh?"

"Too nice. And Maddy's out with Castle at some foodie fundraiser Rocco DiSpirito is running." Kate suppresses a smug smile. "I'm going to have to interrupt their meal."


	2. Chapter 2

Shattered Lies

Chapter 2

"He's feeding her, and she's giggling," Kate mutters to herself as she spots Maddy and Castle in the crowded restaurant.

Maddy looks up as Kate approaches. "Becks! I thought you had a thing tonight."

Kate glares at the bubbly blond. "Something came up. I have more questions for you."

Maddy waves at an empty seat. "Sure, take a load off."

The chair makes a grating noise as Kate shoves it tightly against the table. "No more high school reunion talk, Madison. I need to interview you at the precinct."

"Can't this wait, Beckett?" Castle protests. "We've only just started the tastings. Rocco hasn't even suggested the wine pairings yet."

Kate grits her teeth. "No Castle, it can't. I need some straight answers, now!"

* * *

"Becks, I remember that look," Maddy insists as she studies Kate's face across the table in interrogation. "This isn't about the case; it's about Rick. Just like when you were staring across the room in French class at Jensen Marley, even though you were going out with Frankie Fishbeck. You're into him. You just won't admit it, so you dragged me down here to break up my date with him. You know, you could have told me the truth. I would have backed off. But I can see it; you're biting your lip the way you did when you lied to me back then. You like Castle. You want to make little Castle babies."

Kate flushes. "Maddy, he can hear you!"

"He's watching us? Well good! If you don't have the guts to tell him, somebody should." Springing out of her chair, Maddy knocks on the mirror. "Are you listening, Rick?" The sound of knuckles rapping penetrates the glass. "You're busted, Becks. Deal with it."

Kate smacks her leather folder against the table. "Sit down, Maddy. The one who's busted is you. I checked the alibi you gave me. You went to a banquet for small business owners, and you were supposed to get an entrepreneurial award after dinner, but you weren't there to accept it. You left in plenty of time to get back to Q3 to kill Wolf and set up that little scene with the liquid nitrogen."

"That's ridiculous, Becks. Why would I want to do that? Losing a star chef like Wolf is a disaster for Q3."

"Exactly what you must have told the insurance company when you took out a policy on him. You pay back your investors, hire another chef, and reopen with a fat bottom line."

"Becks, that's not how it happened and not how it works. "I left the banquet because someone called me, claiming there was a fire at Q3. When I got there, everything was OK, and I thought it was just some jerk playing a stupid joke. I was out front the rest of the night schmoozing the customers and making sure the staff was on their toes. I never went back to the kitchen.

"And I can't just hire another chef of Wolf's status. I'll have to make one a partner like he was. That costs. And I'll have to run another PR campaign to assure the fine dining crowd in New York that Q3 is still the place to be. That's not easy or cheap either.

"Do you know that 95 percent of new restaurants fail in the first year? I would have been an idiot not to insure Wolf, and I'm going to have a hell of a time finding someone good enough to replace him."

"Then who had a motive to kill him?"

"I don't know, but Wolf liked to take chances. He did it with his food, coming up with new combinations, new sauces, or new flavor profiles. Usually, that paid off for him. For both of us, really. But he also liked to gamble. I know he blew part of his prize money in Atlantic City before we opened the doors of Q3. He wouldn't have had time to go very far after that, but he might have gotten himself in over his head with someone in New York."

"Are you saying he was killed because he was in debt to a bookie?"

"Just that he could have been, but I wouldn't have known about it. I only kept track of the books for Q3. It wasn't my business what Wolf spent his own money on as long as he performed in the kitchen."

"Maddy, you know I'm going to check out everything you told me."

"Check away. But while you're checking on my honesty Becks, you might think about your own."

Castle is already in his accustomed place beside her desk when Kate sinks into her chair. "You heard."

"I heard - everything. What I don't know is whether Maddy was right or just reliving what she thought she saw in high school. So you tell me, Kate. Am I Jensen Marley and if I am, what the hell are you doing with Tom (Frankie Fishbeck) Demming?"

"Honestly, Castle, I'm not sure. After I had to shoot Coonan, when I told you I'd gotten used to you dipping my pigtails into the inkwell, and wanted you to stay, I meant it. But you are always poking at me. You make me look at things I don't want to see - even with Perlmutter. That's going to open a can of worms big enough to catch all the fish off of Staten Island. Maybe more. But Tom is easy. He's safe. He's comfortable."

"And that's what you want? Safe? Comfortable?"

"I don't know. I need to figure it out."

"Yeah, well when you do, let me know. But while you're cogitating, what are you doing about Perlmutter?"

"I had Lanie call Dr. Murray. He's consulting upstate, but he'll be back the day after tomorrow. Perlmutter should have put out at least his preliminary report by then. Murray can go over it - and Wolf's body - and tell us what he finds that contradicts Perlmutter's findings. We'll have to see where things go from there.

"In the meantime, I need to check out Maddie's story and get Wolf's financials. If he was a gambler, there should be flashing red lights on his bank and credit card accounts."

"And if Maddie's story doesn't check out?"

"I'll still have to investigate Perlmutter. Even if Maddy did kill Wolf, he's still lying. I need to find out why." She points at Castle's shirt. "You've got a spot of something there."

He fingers the stain. "Pumpkin risotto, which I never got to finish eating, along with the rest of the meal. You know, you look a little hungry, too."

Kate lays a hand on her flat abdomen. "I haven't had time for anything except the cup of yogurt I grabbed for lunch."

"Ugh! Not that 80 calorie slim stuff you can finish in about three spoonfuls."

Kate shrugs. "It's handy."

"But not exactly the hearty fare necessary to energize New York's premier detective. So, what do you say to Remy's? You don't have to call it a date, just mutual partaking of essential nutrients."

"Burgers and fries are essential nutrients?"

"If we add pie, we get all the basic junk food groups, salt, sugar, grease, and starch."

"I'd rather have a shake."

"That would do it too." Pushing out of his chair, he offers her his arm. "So what do you say, Beckett?"

She reaches for her purse. "Fine, but we're going Dutch."

Castle sighs as they make their way to the elevator.


	3. Chapter 3

Shattered Lies

Chapter 3

"You've got a little…," Rick points to the corner of his mouth.

Kate dabs at her lips with a napkin. "Did I get it?"

Rick reaches across the table and touches his index finger to her cheek. "I got it. I've never seen you put that much ketchup on a burger before."

"I must have squeezed the bottle too hard. It just came out."

"Artist that you normally are in the box, you're usually in better control than that. Maddy shook you, didn't she?"

"I guess. I don't think I even realized what I was doing until Maddy threw it in my face, and I said it out loud to you."

"Introspection over excessive condiments, I suppose that's progress."

"Castle don't push it. OK?"

"All right, for now at least. So, how soon before you get Wolf's financials?'

"They should be in sometime tomorrow morning."

"And what are you going to do to while away the time in between?"

"I thought I'd sleep."

Castle's eyebrows shoot up.

"Alone, Castle. Closing my eyes. Going to dreamland."

Castle downs the last bite of his burger and pulls bills out of his wallet to cover his part of the check. "Well, in that case, Beckett, sweet dreams."

* * *

Kate punches her pillow and checks her father's watch. 2 a.m. Sweet dreams! Fat chance! "You like Castle. You want to make little Castle babies," has been barging its way around inside her mind ever since Maddy proclaimed it. Kate's pretty sure she doesn't want to make Castle babies - or anyone's - at least not right now, maybe not ever. She can't even consider it until she gets the man who paid Coonan to kill her mother. She fingers her upper arm. Her implant is taking care of that.

Wanting Castle, that's something else. She used to run her fingers over his picture on the back of his book jackets, and for the 12 seconds they talked at his book signing, she thought she'd never met a more charming man. But his feet had rapidly turned to clay when they worked that first case. He was like a man-child, impulsive, reckless, and defiant. And yet, without him, she would have sent an innocent man to jail. Castle is a walking contradiction, a brat one moment, a caring father the next. She can simultaneously adore him and want to punch his face in. No, not that face, but whacking him over the head with a case file when his theories get too annoying could be very satisfying. Smacking him on his firm, well-rounded ass could be even better. God no!

She rechecks the watch. It's two minutes later than the last time she looked. This isn't getting her anywhere. She kicks back the sheets and blanket. Maybe a hot bath will help, but she sure as hell, won't be taking "Naked Heat" into the tub with her.

* * *

Castle regards his poster of Linus, barely visible in the city lights leaking into his bedroom. "Hey, Buddy. You're king of the jungle. You're supposed to be able to handle a whole harem of lionesses. What do you think I should do about just one named Kate Beckett? She's been keeping me at a distance for almost two years and now. I don't know. Maybe I have a chance, and maybe I don't. If she doesn't even know what she wants, how can I give it to her?

"Yeah, you don't know either. She's the most remarkable, stubborn, frustrating, infuriating woman I've ever met and I think I might love her. Damn, I can't lie to my totem. I've loved her since she pushed her badge in my face at my book party. I thought maybe I just had to be patient and keep myself in the picture and she'd come around eventually. Maybe she will. Damn! Of course, she will. She has to because I don't know what I'll do if she doesn't."

* * *

Kate scans the figures on a printout. "It looks like Maddy was right. Wolf habitually maxed out his credit cards but occasionally paid them down in a chunk."

Castle taps a page. "Same with his bank account. He drains it practically to the last cent but then at seemingly random times, probably when he picks a winner, has an infusion of cash. But Beckett, he had a winner pretty recently. It doesn't look like he was in trouble. Where did he stand on his cards?"

"He had some room."

"So if he had the cash to pay, why would a bookie kill him? You can't get money from a dead man, and it's not a claim that could be made against his estate - what there is of it."

"Yeah. And that would bring us back to Maddy, except that I checked her phone. She did get a call while she was at the banquet and Ryan and Esposito interviewed her serving staff. She was in the front of the house. She couldn't have killed Wolf."

"Which leaves us back at square one."

"Except for Perlmutter. We can see what he claims in his report before we bring Dr. Murray in."

* * *

"Got a cause of death, Perlmutter?" Castle inquires.

"I would have thought that would have been obvious to you at the scene, Castle, or did you expect the victim to thaw out and wake up like some Iceman?"

"So it's conclusive that the liquid nitrogen froze him to death?" Kate presses. "No other causes?"

"Detective, is your proximity to Castle dulling your brain? That's what I said. It's in my report, along with the beginnings of damage to Wolf's liver, possibly stemming from too much appreciation of fine wine, and also the fact that his arteries were too occluded for a man of his age. If someone hadn't killed him, he was slowly killing himself." Perlmutter hands her a folder. "Here. You have it. You two can leave now, especially you, Castle."

"Even grouchier than usual, and that takes some doing," Castle notes as he and Kate climb the stairs from the morgue. "He's hiding something, something big, Beckett."

"That's still conjecture. We'll find out when Dr. Murray gets here."

"We'll find out about Wolf's COD. But what about Perlmutter? Maybe we should look at his financials."

"Castle, I can't just request the financials of a medical examiner."

"There are other ways to get them, Beckett, at least starting with a credit check. Morey, my business manager, runs them all the time on people who come to him with one proposition or another for something they want me to invest in. I could get him to run Perlmutter."

"I'm pretty sure that's not legal without permission or a good reason, Castle. Perlmutter could sue."

"Wanting to buy something is a reason, and Perlmutter wants us to buy his story."

"Castle, that's thin."

"But you didn't say you didn't want me to ask Morey to do it. Besides, I'll bet my lawyer could kick the butt of anyone Perlmutter could hire. And if Perlmutter has something to hide, he wouldn't dare make a peep, to the court or anyone else. I'm willing to take the risk. So, shall I have Morey run the check or not?"

Kate pushes her hair behind her ear. "Go ahead. And if there's a question, I'll back you up."

"Nice to know."


	4. Chapter 4

Shattered Lies

Chapter 4

Kate scans the stapled pages Castle extended to her as he strode off the elevator toward her desk. "That was fast, Castle. Morey did this overnight?"

"I emailed him after I got home from Remy's, and he's an early riser. Whatever's up with Perlmutter hasn't been going on long. He's only got one credit card and until recently always paid it off completely. He's never been late on a mortgage or car payment either. He was as obsessive about that as he's been about his work - also until not long ago. In the last few months, he's drained his resources to the danger point."

Kate rubs the tips of two fingers over her lips. "Why would he completely change his habits so abruptly?"

Castle drops down into his usual chair. "I can think of several reasons. One would be a gambling problem like Wolf's, except that he doesn't have the risk-taking personality Wolf had."

"That's an understatement."

"The second one would be that he's finally involved himself with a woman, but he's still too grumpy for a man in love."

Kate focuses on the air in front of her, mentally playing back any times she'd been with Perlmutter in the past weeks. "He hasn't shown any signs of romantic involvement either. No scent of perfume on his clothes. No early morning high. No change in his hairstyle or wardrobe."

"Not even a new tie," Castle agrees. "All right. An inamorata is unlikely. So that leaves helping someone he cares about. The only living thing I've heard him make positive mention of is his dog."

"No. There is someone else. There was one time when he tried to set me up with his identical twin brother, Edgar."

"Ugh! He had to have my middle name."

"That's hardly relevant, Castle."

Rick combs his fingers through his hair. "You're right. And twins, especially identical twins can be even closer than normal siblings, or so my research has told me. I was thinking of putting a pair in one of my books, but it would have been too much like "Dead Ringer. Anyway, if Edgar Perlmutter is in some kind of trouble, Sidney Perlmutter might have been trying to help him out. Should I have Morey run Edgar?"

"Yeah, sure why not? Why just have one lawsuit when you can have two?"

"If Morey finds what we think he'll find, having their credit run will be the least of the Perlmutter twins' problems. I have a thing at Alexis' school. So I'll get back to you later."

"Sure, all right, Castle, have fun."

"Beckett, obviously you have never met Nurse Ratchit."

"What?"

"She's in charge of the drug assembly. Attendance is mandatory for the students and parents' arms are severely twisted to be there as well. From what I understand, there will be video footage gruesome enough to persuade any kids who haven't strayed from the path of righteousness to stay on it. There will also be instruction for parents on how to spot the signs of drug or alcohol use. A cop's supposed to be there also."

"Oh right, Sergeant Skip, the Narcotics Division school liaison. Ryan introduced me to him once. He's a nice guy, more interested in helping the kids than scaring them, I think."

"Nurse Ratchit is scary enough on her own. The upside is, there should be some palatable coffee and good cookies. I got roped into baking some of them myself; the proprietary Castle Triple Chocolate Delights."

"They sound delicious."

"I kept a few back, and I'm willing to share. I shall bring them to you when I return."

* * *

It's almost end of shift when Castle carefully places an aluminum foil-covered plate and a sheaf of paper in a binder clip on Kate's desk before assuming his customary seat. "We'll need the cookies to get through Edgar's sins. I just skimmed it, but Beckett, the man is a financial disaster. His credit cards were canceled for non-payment. He constantly overdrew his bank account, and his condo is in foreclosure. And get this. I checked. He's a CPA. If anyone should know how to handle money…"

Kate picks up the papers and begins to leaf through them. "I get the picture, Castle." Lifting the edge of the foil, she pulls out a cookie and closes her eyes as she savors the dark richness. "Wow, if you ever decide to give up writing, you could make a fortune selling these. I hate to admit it, but you read faster than I do. What was the biggest red flag you found?"

Castle leans over and flips to the last two pages. "Here. Someone gave him a loan, which no one in their right mind would do unless they're planning to engineer something other than losing their money."

"Collici Corp. I've heard of it. The company is rumored to be a laundromat for the mob, but as yet, no one has been able to prove it. I don't know any details, but I have a friend in the office of the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District. If anyone would know about organized crime activity, they would. I'll see what I can find out."

"OK, good. I have to get home. Alexis is going to be at an overnight study group at her friend Paige's house, and my mother is planning to invite some of her theater friends over for a soiree. If I don't keep a watch on the festivities, my liquor cabinet will be Old Mother Hubbard's cupboard, and lime shards may be embedded in the wallpaper."

Kate watches him go before wrapping all the cookies in the foil. She shoves them in her purse before leaving the precinct herself. The crunchy sweetness, and catching up on her recorded episodes of Temptation Lane, will get her through the evening until she winds down enough to sleep.

* * *

Rick's decided that while playing bartender, he'll have some measure of control over his cache of alcoholic beverages, particularly his 50-year-old scotch. He loves Mother dearly, but her friends are not getting their hands on that precious bottle, although he wouldn't mind sharing some with Beckett. Or perhaps it would be better to try to tempt her with a bottle of Chateauneuf du Pape. The cookies went over well. He could bake another batch - but not with Mother's pals overrunning his loft.

Sighing, Rick wonders if he makes the drinks stronger, the invaders will get drunk and sleepy enough to want to leave. He surveys the gathering. Not with this enthusiastic crowd. He'll just have to wait it out until they depart.

It seems like he's been doing nothing but waiting, lately. He's waiting for Beckett to make up her mind about how she feels - cookies notwithstanding. He waits for reports to come back and he's waiting for Dr. Death to arrive. At least Murray will be back in the city tomorrow. Once the primo pathologist uncovers the evidence of Perlmutter's dissembling, Kate can put the M.E. in the box and get the truth out of him. Rick's going to enjoy watching that. It may even make the wait worthwhile. And having a case that will keep Beckett away from Demming, that's pretty worthwhile too. The sound of a crystal flute shattering against his hardwood floor vibrates through the air. Damn! It's going to be a long and expensive night.


	5. Chapter 5

Shattered Lies

Chapter 5

Clark Murray spreads pictures of Balthazar Wolf's body out on the conference table at the 12th and hands Castle and Kate each a copy of his report. "If it hadn't been for Rick's suspicions, this could have been the perfect murder."

"So what killed him?" Kate prompts.

"Well, first of all, Dr. Perlmutter was telling the truth that the man had a self-destructive lifestyle. He did have liver damage and blocked arteries as the original autopsy showed. He'd also sustained considerable injuries from liquid nitrogen, but that's not what killed him."

Murray points to one photo. "There is a small puncture mark here almost obscured by burns from intense cold. Yet there are no drugs or toxins, other than alcohol, in Wolf's system. He appears at first, to have died of a heart attack, perhaps brought on by the shock of freezing. He has high potassium levels that might occur with one. But looking more closely, we can find that the overload of potassium didn't result from a heart attack - it caused his heart to stop. There is a tiny residue of potassium chloride at the site of the wound. Wolf was injected with it, and the cause of his death disguised by the application of liquid nitrogen either at the time of his demise or immediately post mortem."

Kate picks up the photo Murray had indicated. "So someone with medical knowledge killed Wolf and then staged the murder scene?"

Murray nods. "I believe you could draw that conclusion."

Castle holds up his copy of Murray's report. "Beckett, I surmise that you now have enough cause to delve more deeply into Perlmutter."

Kate takes a swallow from a bottle of water. "Yes, Castle, I do."

* * *

"So those are Sidney Perlmutter's complete financials?" Castle asks pointing to a stack of paper on Kate's desk.

"Both Perlmutters, actually. Sidney's showed a lot of transfers from his account to Edgar's, establishing a connection. So I was able to get Edgar's too, as well as having the boys check into his background."

"And what did you discover?"

"Edgar is a day trader. While the economy was booming, he did pretty well at it. He even got Sidney to invest some money with him. But when the recession hit, Edgar was like a lot of investors. He lost big. And when he attempted to make it back, he kept losing. Sidney was trying to prop him up, either through brotherly love or maybe to try to get his money back. But it didn't help.

"Then Edgar got his loan from Collici Corp. and apparently couldn't repay it. I heard back from Judy, my friend at the Southern District. She says that they suspect that Collici Corp. has been expanding its money laundering into restaurants, especially the upscale ones."

Castle buzzes air through his lips. "Like Q3?"

"Exactly like Q3. We need to talk to Maddy again."

* * *

Maddy invites Kate and Rick to take seats at the VIP table near the Q3 kitchen. "I've been interviewing chefs. So far, no one's come close to measuring up to Wolf. I have his arch enemy from "Kitchen Wars" coming in next."

Castle's face brightens. "Jennifer Wong? I could practically taste her pork belly through my television screen. That cherry concentrate she made with her rotary evaporator was sheer genius. I thought she should have won."

"Apparently a lot of the other fans of the show did too, Rick," Maddy acknowledges. "She has quite a following. But Becks, what else did you want to ask me?"

"Were you ever approached by Collici Corp.?

"I think you know I was. It offered to make me a loan to add to Wolf's prize money when we were starting up. But I didn't want any part of it. I'd heard about three other places accepting their money. Then when business slowed down after the initial buzz, Collici foreclosed and took control. The original owners became minor partners, fronts with no decision making power. I wasn't going to take a chance of that happening to me. I went to a community bank that supports small businesses, one that survived the bursting of the real estate bubble."

"Smart lady," Castle comments.

But Collici kept sending a man, kind of a scary looking guy, around every so often. Usually, he talked to Wolf."

Kate presses her lips together. "Yeah. This is all starting to make sense."

Rick slides into the passenger seat of Kate's unit. "So Collici Corp. was trying to get its hooks into Q3 for their money laundering scheme, but Maddy turned them down."

"So they went to Wolf," Kate continues. "He was vulnerable because of his gambling habit, but at the time of his death he was pretty well fixed, so he said no."

"Then," Castle picks up, "the Collici gang figures that if they have Wolf killed and Maddy framed for his murder, they can waltz right in and take Q3. They threaten to wipe out Edgar Perlmutter, perhaps literally, unless he gets his brother to play along."

"Collici owns a company that supplies liquid nitrogen. They either get Perlmutter to murder Wolf himself, throwing suspicion on Maddy, or they make him complicit in the plan. Under the law, the penalty would be the same."

"So our least favorite M.E. doesn't just cut up corpses, he makes them."

"Or at least he made one. God, Castle! This situation is a mess, and it's going to be a bigger one. I almost wish you hadn't seen through what Perlmutter did."

"I can't believe the justice-seeking, tilter at windmills Kate Beckett means that."

"Castle, I hate the shakeup this case is going to cause, but I am glad you were there to expose what really happened."

* * *

When Detective Beckett enters his lab trailed by four uniformed officers, and of course, Castle, Sidney Perlmutter knows he's finished. He drops to his knees to await the inevitable.

* * *

"So what's going to happen now?" Castle wonders as he and Kate take in Sidney Perlmutter's elocution as he enters his guilty plea.

"Both Perlmutters have agreed to cooperate with the US Attorney in building a case against Collici Corp. That and the duress Sidney was under may allow the judge to give him as light a sentence as possible under the law. But now our D.A. has to head off all the fallout from Sidney's discreditation as a witness.

"Sidney just swore as part of his plea deal that Wolf's case was the only one he ever misrepresented in a report. But his statement won't stand on its own. Dr. Murray, Lanie, and a group of other forensic pathologists will have to go over every one of his cases to make sure. After they do, they'll need to be prepared to answer any challenges that arise. The courts will be sorting through all that for a long time."

"How about Collici Corp. and the racketeers behind it?"

"Collici can't be nailed exclusively on the testimony of an accomplice to a crime. There will have to be corroboration. But this case provides an opening to further investigate their operations, and those of the sponsoring family, the Spinellis. That could take years too. There will be a lot of rocks to turn over."

"But it will be worth it, right? To rid the city of those predators?"

"Yeah, Castle, I think it will."

Castle claps his hands together. "Then we should celebrate!"

"It's only eleven o'clock in the morning. Not exactly the time to hoist a cold one."

"No, but how about tonight, Beckett? At Q3? Maddy hired Jennifer Wong, and I'm sure we can get a great meal."

A smile teases Kate's mouth. "Fine, Castle. I'll see you there."

A/N I have a new book called "Sarah, an Autistic Among the Lying NTs." It is very personal and very important to me. I have more than one publisher interested, but I need preorders to get it put out. I'd give you a link, but this site won't allow it. If you are interested or even curious, just google the title. YouTube videos of me explaining the book and a link to my Publishizer campaign will come up.


	6. Chapter 6

Shattered Lies

Chapter 6

Rick points at his plate. "You really should try some of my pork belly, Beckett. It's even more triumphant than it looked on the screen."

"No thanks, Castle. I'll stick with my chicken - lean and mean."

"I suppose that suits the woman consuming it. Even aside from the ongoing legal complications, you seem pretty disturbed by Perlmutter's involvement in Wolf's demise."

"I am, Castle. According to his plea, he didn't inject the poison, but he was an accomplice, however unwilling. After he spent so many years on the right side of the law, it was upsetting to see him cross the line."

"People, even Perlmutter, will do anything for the ones they love. He must not have seen an alternative. And … what the hell?"

A man with a Sig Sauer barges into the dining area at Q3. Castle springs from his chair and throws himself in front of Kate, as the gunman aims his pistol directly at her. As Rick is knocked to the floor by the penetration of a bullet into his chest, Kate pulls her off-duty weapon from her ankle holster and shoots the gunman. The shooter, with a hole in his forehead, crumples to the floor, never to move again.

Grabbing a heavy cloth napkin from the table, Kate falls to her knees, trying to staunch the blood staining the shirt Alexis had carefully selected for her father's big date. "Somebody call 911! Castle, Rick, stay with me, OK. Help is coming. You're going to be all right. Just stay with me."

Rick tries to focus on Kate's face. Her hazel eyes seem to have shifted to emerald green as he stares up at her, but a gray haze is beginning to block his vision. The room fades as sirens scream in the distance.

* * *

"Katherine, what the hell happened?" Martha demands as she and Alexis thunder into the waiting area at Bellevue, the nearest trauma hospital to Q3.

Kate's teeth dig into her lip, almost drawing blood. "There was a shooter, and Rick…he, he put himself in front of me. I took out the sonofabitch who pulled the trigger. Rick was the only one hurt, but because I'm not next of kin, the doctors won't tell me anything except that he's in surgery."

Martha's eyes blaze. "Well, they'll sure as hell tell me." She turns to Alexis. "Wait with Katherine while I track down someone who will talk to me."

Alexis shakes her head. "He's my father. I'm going with you."

* * *

Ryan and Esposito rush in as Kate paces in misery. Esposito lays his hand on her arm. "Any word yet?"

"Nothing, but Martha is on it."

"Come on, Beckett, sit down," Ryan urges. "It could be a long night."

Kate drops into a chair. "Anything on the shooter?"

"Not officially," Esposito responds, "but the organized crime unit thinks he works for the Spinellis. You ruined Collici's play, Beckett, so they sent someone after you. Montgomery's put a protective detail on you until this all gets sorted out. He thought you might be safer at home under guard, but he knew you weren't about to move from here while Castle's in danger."

"He's right about that. You know it wasn't just the blood, he was barely breathing - like he was dying in front of my eyes. And it should have been me. He jumped right in front of me to take the bullet."

"As you would have done for him," Esposito points out.

"Yeah, but I'm a cop. 'To serve and protect,' right? He wasn't supposed to be protecting me." Kate springs to her feet again. "Martha, what's happening?"

The older woman's hand is tightly interlaced with her granddaughter's. "A resident came out of the operating room to speak with Alexis and me. The surgeons think Richard will be in surgery at least another hour, and it may be several more. The bullet shattered his rib. There are a lot of bone fragments. Some of them collapsed his lung. To eliminate the chance of any other organs being injured, they have to find them all and repair the damage. At least the bullet didn't hit his heart, but he lost a lot of blood. He was very weak by the time the paramedics brought him here. They'll be taking him to ICU from surgery. The surgeon will be able to give me a report then.

"Can I get anyone a coffee or something?" Ryan offers.

Martha's eyes harden. "Just go catch the bastards behind this."

* * *

The first word attempting to come out of Rick's mouth when he opens his eyes is Kate's name. He can barely manage a choked "K" sound, but Martha knows what he wants. She's known for two years, from the moment she saw the way he looked at Detective Beckett.

"Katherine is right outside, Richard. I'll get her."

Rick lifts his hand slightly as Kate approaches the side of his bed. Without hesitation she grasps it, gazing down at him. "That was really brave but really stupid putting yourself in front of me that way. Why did you do it, Castle?"

No sound emerges, but his lips form the words, "I love you." He can only hope that Kate understands.

* * *

In the private room where Castle has been moved from ICU, there are fewer beeps and whirs, but he can hear the sound of Kate's breathing. She's fallen asleep in the chair where she's spent the last few hours. Alexis and his mother have been there too, but in the mists of semi-consciousness, he thought he heard his mother say something about grabbing food.

Kate is instantly alert at Rick's rasping approximation of her name. "You're awake. I should get Martha and Alexis. They're right down the hall at the vending machines."

Castle reaches for her hand. "In a minute. How long?"

"Since you were shot?"

Rick nods.

"About 36 hours."

"And you stayed with me."

"As much as I could. The boys went to my apartment to get me some things. Ryan enlisted his girlfriend to help. They went to your loft to get clothes and stuff for Martha and Alexis too."

"That was kind of them."

"They wanted to do something. The shooter is dead."

"You killed him."

"But going after the Spinellis who sent him is going to be tough. They've survived in this city for a long time. They know how to protect themselves."

"And you, Kate, do you know how to protect yourself?"

She smooths a few strands of hair from his forehead. "Hey, you don't need to worry about it. Montgomery has a mother hen squad on me 24/7, not to mention the ever watchful eyes of the boys. I'm going to have to work at it to get enough privacy to take a shower - and I need one."

"You're going to get the bad guys, Beckett. We're going to get them."

"You're not going to do anything that doesn't involve being in bed."

Castle wiggles his eyebrows. "Is that an invitation?"

"We'll talk about it when you're on your feet again."

"You just said you wanted me in bed."

"You know you're just as impossible as you were before you got shot."

"Nice to know I haven't lost my touch."

Martha's voice trumpets from the doorway. "Richard, Darling, you're back!"

The best he can while tethered to IV's, Rick holds out his arms to his mother and daughter. As Kate watches them wrap themselves around him in unabashed love, she knows there's something she has to do. Tom will be disappointed when he hears what she has to say, but he's too good a detective to be surprised.


	7. Chapter 7

Shattered Lies

Chapter 7

"Was it something I said? Something I did?" Demming asks.

"No, nothing like that," Kate insists. "You're a good man, Tom, and under different circumstances I'd…"

"Different circumstances like you not having a thing for Castle. Come on, Kate. You know I'm not blind, and I hope you don't think I'm stupid. Did you know that before I asked you out, I asked him if you two were together? He said you weren't."

"He was telling the truth."

"Sure. I just posed the wrong question. After my training in interrogation, I should have known better. I should have asked if he wanted the two of you to be together. I should have asked you too; only I was afraid of what your answer would be. Did it take a bullet to his chest to make you come clean?"

Kate shakes her head, her lungs expelling long-held air. "No. I met up with an old friend on the Balthazar Wolf case who wasn't afraid to throw some truth in my face - and Castle heard it. Then - it doesn't matter how it happened. I'm really sorry Tom. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Yeah, well you did, but I let it happen. I don't have Castle's money, but maybe my squad can chip in to buy our own espresso machine. See you around, Kate."

Kate watches the tall figure walk toward the back stairway. It seems like guys are always getting hurt around her; Tom, Will Sorensen, hell, poor Frankie Fishbeck - and Castle. She's dangerous, very nearly fatal. Maybe she should push Rick away again too. But she can't, and even if she tries, she knows he won't let her. Not this time. She saw the words on his lips, and they were almost on hers."

* * *

Rick is propped up in bed spooning up - something. "They're letting you eat!"

"Opinions vary. The aide who delivered this insists that it's jello, but it doesn't jiggle. How can jello not jiggle?"

Kate shrugs. "Secrets of a hospital kitchen. I could sneak you in some soup - the good stuff, from the Soup Nazi."

Castle points to a camera mounted unobtrusively near the TV screen. "Big brother is watching. Probably a good thing, in a way. It was able to keep Mother from bringing me that green slime she refers to as a healthful smoothie. I think I'd rather get shot again. On the other hand, Alexis offered a triple fudge ice cream sundae. She promised she'd make me one as soon as I get out of here."

"And how long before the doctors let you go?"

"One of the residents told me I'd be here a couple of weeks, but Slovnik, he's the one with gray hair and the wingtips, said that if I behaved myself, I could go home sooner than that."

Kate can't help grinning. "Castle, when have you ever behaved yourself?"

The creases in his forehead deepen. "Kate, I'm going to do my best to try. There's a lot - we have a lot…"

Kate pulls up a chair beside his bed. "I know. And I promise we will. But, in case you haven't noticed, I'm not the safest person to be around these days. Hey, in the hospital, with their security, is one thing. And even so, my appointed guardian is out in the hall. But chasing around trying to solve a case together, I don't think we can do that. Not until this thing with the Spinellis is settled."

"And when will that be?"

"Castle, I don't know."

* * *

Kate is scanning through mostly worthless reports on her computer screen and trying to decide whether to get her bowl of M&Ms out of her drawer when Ryan's voice penetrates her thoughts. "Beckett, I think we have something. After Lanie identified the shooter who tried to kill you, we went after his financials. He was keeping almost everything offshore, but we pushed enough paper at the Caymans to get some cooperation.

"We traced a transfer to his account to a bank in New York and got a court order to get the name of the company, Conchiglie, that sent the money - $100,000. Our case liaison with the Southern District on the Spinellis says it's one of their shell corps. There are two stockholders, Rico Spinelli and his brother Gino. The corporate offices are in a building on Barker Street in Little Italy."

"Conchiglie is not the most brilliant name for their cover. It means shell in Italian. And it's a very traditional location."

"If you don't count that it's between a Starbuck's and a mega Chinese market. Javi and I thought we'd scope the place out."

Kate grabs for the jacket slung over the back of her chair. "I'm going with you."

"Beckett, you shouldn't. For you, going into Spinelli territory is like walking into the lion's den. If there's still a hit out on you, anyone hanging around the Spinellis would be looking to make a fast buck. And there may not even be anything there. You know a lot of those corporate addresses are just maildrops. Look, Javi and I will call you if we find anything."

Kate slips her jacket back where it was. "This really sucks, you know?"

"It does," Ryan agrees, "but it would suck a lot more if you get yourself killed."

* * *

"Kate don't keep me in suspense," Castle implores. "Besides great clam linguine, what did Ryan and Esposito find in Little Italy?"

"More like who. Dominic Spinelli."

"The old man himself? Don Dom? Ooh, try saying that three times fast."

"Once is enough."

"Anyway," Rick continues undiscouraged, "maybe the Don decided he had to administer a little fatherly discipline, or figured that the kids screwed the pooch and he had to take charge of their operation himself."

"It could be either, Castle - or just a family visit. Ryan and Espo have the Conchiglie building under surveillance, and the Southern District is working on a warrant to intercept calls in and out of the place. One way or another we're going to nail the Spinellis for shooting you, Wolf's murder, and maybe a whole lot more."

"If ever there was a silver lining to getting shot, I guess that would be it."

Kate gets up and leans over the bed, locking Rick's gaze with her own. "I might have a better one."

"Do tell."

"I'd rather show."

Kate's lips descend on Castle's. The kiss is soft, tentative, but deepens as long-repressed passion takes hold. Rick plunges his fingers into Kate's hair as a cough sounds from the doorway of the room.

Kate pulls away and turns toward the sound. "Captain!"

"I just wanted to see how Castle is doing, but it looks like the answer is pretty well. You know, there was a pool on when you two would finally get together. I lost big. I thought it would be a month. My wife Evelyn had two years. She's going to score a huge win."

Rick reaches for Kate's hand. "Not as huge as mine."

"Yeah, well just keep out of the range of hitmen - both of you. I'd hate to see the Montgomery family lose its windfall now."

"Yes, Sir." Kate agrees. "We will do our best.


	8. Chapter 8

Shattered Lies

Chapter 8

Her cell phone slips from Kate's fingers to her desk as she sits, her eyes unfocused. She needs to see Castle, but she can't go anywhere. She picks up her phone again. At least she can Skype.

When the image of Kate's drawn face appears on his screen, Castle can feel his stomach twist. "What's wrong?"

"I got a report from the Southern District on the calls going in and out of the Conchiglie building. The Spinellis have decided to make an example of me. They haven't just put out a hit. If one of their soldiers is successful in taking me out, he moves up in rank - and gets a new condo. Can you believe it? It's like a crowdfunding campaign. They're offering perks."

"Unfortunate fallout of our times. So what happens now? Safe house?"

"I don't know, Castle. An FBI protective squad is supposed to be on its way to the 12th to meet with me. I guess I'll find out the plan then."

"How are you handling this?"

Kate unconsciously pushes back her hair. "Right now I'm just numb, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But there may be an upside to the situation."

"What could be the upside to having a whole crime family after you?"

"That it is all about me. They're not after you, or even trying to get Perlmutter shanked in jail. You'll be safe, and with them concentrating their efforts, it will be easier for the Feds to predict their activities and close in on them. That should make 'Operation Shell Casing' go faster."

"Operation Shell Casing?"

A hint of amusement tugs at Kate's lips. "Uh huh. Someone either in the FBI or the Southern District office got the idea from Conchiglie. The operation is supposed to encase the shell."

"Eww. Sounds like something a rookie writer would try to put in a crime novel. But then I had a few less than adept phrases in some of my earlier works. Can you let me know if the Feebies are going to spirit you off somewhere?"

"I hope so. But if you don't hear anything don't worry. I will be surrounded by Feds with guns."

"I will worry. It wasn't that long ago that a protected witness and your pal Sorenson were shot while surrounded by Feds with guns. Kate, promise me you'll take care of yourself."

"I will, Castle. I promise."

* * *

Kate could swear that Special Agent Murphy stepped out of a 1940s movie. He has the blocky build, suit, tie and shiny shoes that fit the image to a "T." He even wore Fedora, but politely took it off and put it in front of him when he sat down in the conference room. She half expects him to have a Tommy gun. He gets right to the point. "Detective Beckett, at present, you are the focus of the Spinelli family's activities. They have suspended many of their operations with one goal in mind, to send a message that when they want to expand their business, no cop should try to get in their way. They've gone to some effort to put the word out on the street. They'll be expecting us to stow you in a safe house. And if you want us to, we can do that."

Kate leans across the table. "But you don't think it's a good idea."

Murphy fingers the rim of his hat. "Frankly no. The concentration of attention on you will bring the whole Spinelli army out into the open. That will give us our best chance of rounding up as many of them as we can, and also finding cooperating witnesses who can spill the beans on the inner workings of the organization. We can let their arrogance work against them."

Kate slowly lets out a breath. "So they're the rats, and I'd be the cheese."

"That's the size of it, Detective, yes. But you will be protected. We'll have people here at the precinct, at your apartment, and at least two cars trailing you wherever you go. And if you want to keep your N.Y.P.D. detail, we can coordinate with them. But the choice is yours. If you want to be put into protective custody, we will do it right now."

"Take care of yourself, Kate," rings in Beckett's mind. How can she do that? If she hunkers down in a federal hiding place, she could be there forever, with Spinellis just waiting for their chance to take her down. She would never really be out of the crosshairs. But if she goes along with Murphy's plan, the Feds could gut the Spinellis, and she'll at least stand a chance of being with Castle again. Her choice couldn't be clearer. "No safe house."

* * *

Martha sweeps into Castle's room. "Richard, are they actually going to let you go home today? Women used to stay in the hospital longer than this to have babies."

"I suspect that was before the insurance companies started making the rules," Rick responds. "Anyway, Mother, I'll be better back at the loft. Someone can come in to handle the messier aspects of caring for me, and I'll be away from the nasty bugs that thrive in purported places of healing. Also, I'll have a lot more TV channels."

"Honestly, Richard, sometimes you're impossible. But you're a grown man, in years if not maturity. It is your decision."

"Actually, it's the decision of some bean counter, but in this case, I like it. Kate had to stop coming, and the walls are closing in on me here. I want to go home."

* * *

Kate regards the bullpen. The shift has changed - again. How long has she been at the precinct? Twelve hours? Fourteen? She feels safe here, as safe as she can feel anywhere. And she's been helping out the other detectives by taking on some of their paperwork, unpleasant as that activity is.

But she should really go back to her place. It's unlikely even the cockiest Spinelli will try to earn his condo by shooting her here. Her apartment is close enough to walk to, but that would put too many innocents in the line of fire. She can drive, surrounded as unobtrusively as possible by her federal shadows. The Spinellis could attempt an attack on the New York City Streets, or try to approach the building where she lives. Either way, they should be caught up in the FBI's net. The sooner the fish are filleted, the better.

Castle tries to relax against the stack of pillows fluffed every few hours by Alexis. Kate hasn't been entirely incommunicado, but what she's said when she Skyped chilled him to the bone. She kept assuring him that she's wearing her Kevlar and that every conceivable path to her is guarded. It doesn't help. He wants to be near her. He couldn't do much in his current condition, but she would know that there would be someone with her that cared more about her than taking down a gangster family.

At least they've set up a check-in system. She calls every two hours, night or day. She thought she should hold back at night so he could get some rest. But there's no way he can do that anyway if he doesn't know she's all right. Her last call was 90 minutes ago. Only half an hour to wait. It will be the longest 30 minutes on record.


	9. Chapter 9

Shattered Lies

Chapter 9

Relieved breath whooshes from Castle's lips. "Kate!"

"Castle, I'm sorry I'm so late calling. Something went down."

"Are you all right?"

"Fine, the Spinellis never got close. They tried to sneak into the laundry room from the air shaft, but Agent Murphy's people saw them coming. Murphy wanted to make sure that I had a look at them before he had them carted off. He needed to see if I recognized anyone."

"Did you?"

"Yeah, actually. I saw one of the attackers come in to clean the precinct on the night shift. Murphy checked. A usual guy called in sick, and the thug one was a last minute substitution. Usually, the cleaning service won't allow unvetted fill-ins like that because of bonding issues. They let it go because someone vouched for him, but it turned out the voucher is a second cousin to a Spinelli, so Murphy's folks are going to bring her in too."

"Her?"

"The whole family is in on this, Castle, you know that. But Murphy collared a good chunk of it tonight, and he may be getting a lot more of them after he finishes his interrogations. Did you see the picture I sent? Doesn't Agent Murphy look like someone who would shine a light in some thug's eyes and demand that he come clean?"

"He does, kind of."

"But he wouldn't do anything that would cause a judge to cut a perp loose on a technicality. One of his guys told me that Murphy was a practicing attorney before he joined the FBI. He just wanted more action than he could get in court."

"Sounds like he's getting it. I don't suppose that while the Spinelli forces are in at least temporary disarray, you and your Praetorian Guard could find your way up here. Alexis is sound asleep - I hope - and I have a camera aimed outside from a window in her room, just in case. Mother is holed up studying the script for a new play. Complete immersion. She's dressed like her character and saying everything in a Tennessee accent. At least I think it's Tennessee. She sounds like she just left the stage of the Grand Ole Opry. They should both be securely out of the line of fire."

"You won't be."

"But I'll have you, and I'm sure you'll have a watcher not far away. I am hoping for at least the other side of the bedroom door."

"I suppose it's possible, but Castle, you'll never heal if you don't get any sleep."

"Which I won't get if I don't see you."

"I should have seen that coming. I'll check with Sarah. She's my personal bodyguard right now. We'll figure out what we can set up."

* * *

The clock in Castle's great room is digital, but he could swear he hears it ticking as he waits in a chair by the door for Kate to show up. Getting to his post from his bedroom took him a while, but he's never had a chance to give her a key. He'll present her with one now. She already has the key to his heart. Why shouldn't she have one to his door? Whoa! He's never put a cliché like that in one of his books, but it is the way he feels.

The knock on his door is in the rhythm of the opening eight notes of the _Dragnet _theme. Kate is keeping her sense of humor. He winces as he pushes up from his seat to let her in, but the twinge is more than worth it when he sees her standing there, even accompanied by what Rick supposes are three FBI agents.

He offers her his arm, but she extends her elbow first. He'll be leaning on it more than he likes, but they'll get where they want to go, faster. The tall, angular woman Castle assumes is Sarah, indicates that she'll be in Rick's office, a whole four feet away, but at least theoretically in another room.

Rick sinks down on the edge of his bed, and Kate snuggles beside him, pulling her feet up under her. He runs the knuckle of his index finger over her cheekbone. "I missed you."

"I missed you too. And we'll have to make the most of the time we have now because after the Spinellis have a chance to regroup, I won't be able to come back here, at least until the next roundup."

"And when do you expect Murphy to pull his lasso tight again?"

"I don't know. Maybe in a couple of days if we're lucky, and Murphy manages to squeeze out enough information from the soldiers he's already caught. But it could be a lot longer."

"So what do you want to do now?"

Kate brushes her lips against his. "Whatever we can without tearing your chest open again."

Castle presses his lips to hers. "I'm willing to take the risk."

* * *

"What the fuck happened?" Dominic Spinelli demands.

Rico shoves his hands in his pockets so his father can't see them shake. "The Feds know we're after Beckett. They have people on her everywhere every minute. Maybe it would be better if we laid off."

Pens rattle as Dominic brings his meaty fist down on his desk. "I can't believe my son would even suggest such a thing. We'd lose honor in our family and in front of every family in the city. And we'd be completely closed out of any new businesses. Our failure with Q3 was bad enough. The decision to use Perlmutter was a catastrophe. That damn doctor dragged two good men down with him. But Beckett is at the root of our troubles. If she had accepted Perlmutter's story, we'd control Q3 and more like it by now, instead of just using our trucks to haul their garbage. Beckett must be eliminated, whatever it takes. So, you and Gino stay on top of it, 24 hours a day until she's in a hole in the ground. _Capeesh_?"

"Yes, Father."

* * *

Luca knows he's in deep shit. At first, he thought Agent Murphy was a clown, someone who watched too many movies. But Murphy is no joker. And he knows the system. The Fed never does anything a lawyer could use to claim excessive force or abuse. He never lays a hand on Luca or keeps him from sleeping. He just goes at it, hour after hour while Luca's awake. He demands to know everything about Rico, Gino, the Don, the whole family. Luca's never met Don Dominic. Now it's unlikely he ever will.

Murphy gave him a little break - 20 minutes for lunch. He has to eat shackled, but it's good pasta, better than what Luca's mother makes. The captive longs for a glass of vino to go with his meal, or better yet a whole bottle of red, but he had to settle for water. At least that's the quality stuff too. The food won't be this good in Sing-Sing. Luca knows that for a fact. Maybe this is the end of the line. If he goes along with Murphy, tells him what he knows, maybe he could be sent to a better joint or even put into WITSEC, and protected in case the family - if there's anything left of it by the time Murphy's finished - enforces the penalty for squealing.

Luca takes another bite of his pasta. Murphy isn't going to give up. He knows that in his gut. So maybe it will be better to talk to the man than spend the rest of his life eating crap and making sure his back is against the wall.


	10. Chapter 10

Shattered Lies

Chapter 10

That Francesca (Frankie) Figluzzi is upset, is an understatement. When Don Dominic asks for a favor, you don't say no, and vouching for someone seemed a pretty easy thing to do. She never thought she'd get picked up by Feds. And Murphy is as scary as the Don - maybe more.

The family hasn't even sent a lawyer. With what's been happening, they're probably all tied up. Or maybe they decided it would be better to work for the Cardanos. If no one shows up soon, she'll have to take matters into her own hands. For sure, she's not putting her ass on the line for the Don's stupid vendetta against some two-bit detective. Proving a cop can't hide from the Spinellis isn't worth ending up in a hole. And that the Don asked her personally to vouch for someone who was dumb enough to get himself caught; well, that piece of information should be worth something.

* * *

Castle wonders how it's possible to feel better and more miserable at the same time. His home health aide has assured him that his wound is healing nicely, and he's moving better with less pain. All that would be wonderful if it meant he'd have an easier time getting his arms around Kate - or have a chance to see her at all.

According to what she's said that Murphy's told her, the FBI's on the edge of a breakthrough. But it's been on that edge for days, and it feels like years. What Rick needs is something to take his mind off Kate. His fallback has always been to retreat into his writing, but penning the adventures of Nikki Heat just makes things worse.

He tried a movie marathon, but sitting in front of the TV for that long just made him more uncomfortable. In any case, it takes something creative to occupy his mind effectively. He shuffles across the loft. If he can't create on the page, he can at least ply his inventiveness in the kitchen. When Kate does return, he can offer culinary titillation to her senses.

* * *

U.S. Attorney Susan Beeman fixes special Agent Murphy with a stare. "You're telling me that this Francesca Figluzzi can make a direct connection between Dominic Spinelli and the attack on Katherine Beckett."

"She's willing to swear to it in exchange for protection. And we've flipped a Luca Santone who has added details about the operation. He's looking toward a cushier stay on the government's dime."

"So, if Figluzzi proves to be the real deal, how long before you can close in on Dominic Spinelli and the rest of his operation?"

Murphy rubs his thumb over the crown of the Fedora in his lap. "We're all set to go. Hours."

Susan leans back in her chair, turning her eyes toward the ceiling of her book-crammed office. "All right. You check every element of Figluzzi's and Santone's stories. And if they track, you have a green light."

* * *

"Richard," Martha trumpets from above, "what is that enticing aroma? I could feel my chakras tingling from my room."

"Are you sure that isn't a holdover from your assignation with Burt, or whatever his name is?"

"It's Kurt, and that may well be, but what are you cooking?"

"Pasta Carbonara de Castle. I've been tweaking my recipe to make something special for Beckett."

"Oh, is Katherine due to burst the bonds of her confinement?"

"Very poetic, Mother. She thinks the Spinelli nightmare will be over soon. It couldn't be too soon for me, and I'm going to be ready. I'll have the pasta on the menu. Now I just need something for dessert."

"Richard, I've had the impression that you were well versed in appetizing endings for an evening."

That his mother is assessing his abilities in that arena makes Castle shudder. "Mother, I meant something edible. Eww, that just makes it worse. I was thinking about profiteroles with a filling surrounding fresh strawberries and topped with mocha sauce."

"Sounds delightful. I've always found strawberries stimulating to the senses."

"Again, Eww. I still have some bugs to work out. If the strawberries aren't perfectly dry, they make the cream filling watery. I'm considering dipping them in chocolate, but I haven't decided between dark and extra dark."

"By all means, the extra dark. More anti-oxidants."

"Not exactly my primary concern, Mother."

"I would think after all of this Spinelli mess you'd want to keep her healthy. But in any case, Katherine seems to appreciate intensity."

"Yes, she does. Extra dark it will be. Now, would you like to taste test the pasta?"

"I was afraid you'd never ask."

"And get Alexis to sample it too."

* * *

Susan Beeman has finally given Murphy the thumbs up he's been awaiting. He has not only his own team ready, but he's also pulled in every available agent and piece of equipment from 10 states. He just has to give the operation the go."

Kates ringtone emanates from Castle's phone at midnight, but he is instantly alert. "It's done, Castle. Dominic Spinelli is in custody, along with most of the Spinelli family. Murphy's forces are just doing mop up now, making sure there's no one out there with a finger on the trigger."

"And how soon can the mops be returned to the janitor's closet?"

"Murphy thinks it will be any day now."

"Ask him to tell his people to swab the decks faster."

"I doubt I'll have to ask."

* * *

Usually, Jackson wouldn't give a damn about organized crime unless it threatens national security. That's the FBI's domain, and they're welcome to it. But a Spinelli shot Richard and that makes it personal. He's been keeping his eyes on the FBI operation to take down the family and was impressed with Agent Murphy. If the man wasn't such a throwback, he might consider trying to recruit him for the company. In any case, the agent has been doing a good job, pulling the Spinellis in.

The whole scenario centers on Detective Katherine Beckett. Jackson has looked in on her from time to time, ever since Richard became her shadow, but he never expected her to become the subject of a vendetta. He never expected Richard to throw himself in front of a bullet for her either. If he had, he would have been paying more attention, but his son has never been that devoted to a woman before, not even the one he married. He was caught up with the Blaine girl in college, but he let her go. Stupid move in Jackson's opinion at the time, but it could be in the genes. Jackson has never seriously attached himself to a woman either. If he'd known Martha would get pregnant, maybe - but the water splashed over that dam almost forty years ago.

That Richard was willing to put his life on the line for Beckett has turned his view of his son upside down. More family suddenly seems a possibility. He shakes his head. He doesn't know if Richard's even had a chance to sleep with Beckett yet, but it doesn't really matter. Jackson's slept with his share of women but never cared even close to that deeply. But if Richard cares that much about Kate, Jackson will watch out for her. He already took out a couple of the Spinellis that the FBI failed to spot. They're resting in the Jersey Meadows. Jackson enjoyed the irony of using the Spinellis' favorite disposal spot to disappear a couple of their own. As long as he's stateside, he'll keep his eyes on things, especially when Beckett finds her way back to the Castle loft. His granddaughter and Martha are there, and if he can help it, nothing is going to happen to them either.

A/N I have a new The Rookie one-shot called "Filling Holes." Jessica Russo tries to help John cope with the aftermath of Captain Andersen's death.


	11. Chapter 11

Shattered Lies

Chapter 11

The sound of Kate's key clicking in the lock takes Castle by surprise. He'd managed to engross himself in his writing - A Derrick Storm novella, not Nikki Heat. It's only three o'clock. He hasn't started his new batch of pasta or even dipped any strawberries. Pushing himself up from the chair behind his desk, he strides to meet her as she comes through the door. "I didn't hear anything on the news. Has Dominic Spinelli been arraigned?"

Kate drops her purse and wraps her arms around Rick's neck. "Held without bail on the theory that with his overseas resources he's a flight risk. Same ruling as his sons. And all three of them are being put in segregation so they can't use other prisoners to get a message out. The Spinellis still have the family consigliere on the case, but Murphy is keeping an eye on him to make sure the family can't launch any further operations."

"So you're in the clear?"

"I'm a cop, Castle. I'm never in the clear, but Murphy and Beeman have put a leash on the Spinellis, and they've frozen as many accounts as they could. If there is anyone left on the outside, they'll have a hard time scraping up the funds for a hit or much of anything else."

"I had a celebration all planned, but nothing is ready. You caught me unawares."

Kate's hands slide down his back to grip handfuls of the firm muscle above his thighs, "Sometimes that can be the best way to be caught."

"And now that you have me, whatever will you do with me?"

Kate inclines her head toward the bedroom. "I'm sure we can figure something out."

Castle mouths silent thanks that he at least got around to making the bed. His healthcare aide had been doing it, but after the doctor removed the stitches from his incision, he'd been able to let her go. He still has a lot of physical therapy ahead of him; he can't fulfill his fantasy of sweeping Kate up in his arms, but heated visions of how he and Kate can indulge themselves are steaming his brain.

Kate reaches for the top button of Rick's shirt. "How long are we going to be alone?"

"Huh? Oh. Mother will be gone through the night. She has a performance, and from what I gather, she's been doing some very personal encores. Alexis has a fencing lesson, and then I believe she's going for pizza with her girlfriends. So the coast is clear for at least a couple of hours."

Kate yanks off Rick's plaid overshirt and tugs at the T-shirt beneath. "That should be good for a start." She stops short for a moment as she uncovers the scar on his chest, before tracing its unexpected length with her fingers.

Rick presses a kiss to her hair. "The surgeons had to go on quite a treasure hunt. They needed some room. It's all right, really. Nothing is going to pop out - unless one of the doctors was an alien who surreptitiously implanted her offspring in me."

Kate brushes the raised red line with her lips. "I'll watch out for any signs of invasion."

Castle removes her top. "Tit for tat."

Piece by piece, their garments find temporary storage on the hardwood floor. Rick wants to take his time to explore every inch of Kate, but after two years of waiting and longing, impatience is creeping in, if not to his mind, in some parts of his anatomy considerably lower. The way Kate is thrashing beneath his touch suggests she has no desire for moving at a leisurely pace either and when she takes matters into her own hands, it confirms his assumption. Her fingers encircle his growing arousal before she straddles his hips. She is ready, more than ready, to take him in. As she bucks above him, Rick's thumbs find the desperate pink buds pleading for his attention. Kate's hair flies, as her ride becomes more urgent. She is a thing wild, striving for release. His questing hands and mouth do anything but gentle her.

Rick can feel the explosion building from deep within her, the rush of shockwaves triggering his own. He struggles for breath as she collapses atop him, but he wouldn't have her anywhere else. Whatever comes next, for him, the connection he and Kate have forged is indestructible. They drift together in the hazy dreamscape between awareness and slumber.

* * *

As an alert sounds from the pocket of the pants still occupying the spot they'd been tossed beside the bed, Rick forces himself to full consciousness. Kate has shifted position enough that she is pressed against his side, but he still must, however regretfully, dislodge himself from her grasp to retrieve his cell and read the text from his daughter. Trapped by a downpour, she wants to know if he can come and pick her up from Giovanni's. Rain. He never heard a clap of thunder or the drops pelting the tall windows of the loft, but now the dull roar of the storm is registering on his ears. He punches in his response that he'll be there in twenty minutes. Kate pushes up on her elbows. "What are you doing?"

"Attempting to fulfill the obligations of fatherhood. I need to rescue Alexis from the assault of the weather."

"Wow! I didn't even see a cloud on my way here."

"Sorry about this," Rick calls from the bathroom while he hastily sponges off before slipping his clothes back on. "Alexis is following standing instructions to call if she gets caught by anything like this unheralded squall."

"Hey. Don't apologize. Your devotion as a father was my first clue that you're actually a responsible human being. You want me to drive?"

"No. I've been handling emergency retrievals for a lot of years. But you can be a passenger. It is my fervent wish that Alexis will be seeing a lot of you. She might as well start getting used to it now."

* * *

Director Mullen motions Agent Murphy to a chair. "You did a good job, Seamus. It's going to be a long while before the Spinellis can regroup - if they ever do."

"Yes, Sir, but the operation might have been impossible if Detective Beckett hadn't been willing to put her ass on the line," Murphy acknowledges, "and the other four major families in New York are already showing signs of moving in to take over Spinelli territory."

Mullen taps his pen on a folder on his desk. "Exactly the two matters I wanted to discuss with you. There is a hell of a lot of work yet to be done in New York, and I believe that Beckett has proved herself to be a worthy asset. I want you to head up our New York-based war on organized crime, coordinating with the U.S. Attorneys on RICO prosecutions. And for as much as you'll be interacting with the N.Y.P.D., I propose enlisting Beckett as a liaison."

"Sir?"

"I believe I was clear, Murphy. I want you to take charge of all our operations against organized crime in New York City. And as far as Detective Beckett is concerned, I realize that it is unconventional to appoint a cop on the front lines to a liaison position, but I believe I can smooth any ruffled feathers at 1PP. After the load you removed from the N.Y.P.D.'s plate, the commissioner owes us a few."

"Yes, Sir."

Mullen hands Murphy his file. "This outlines what your duties will be and how your organization will be set-up. Consider it a guideline. Within the law, I am essentially giving you a free hand, but I expect results, Murphy."

"Yes, sir. I'll try not to disappoint you."


	12. Chapter 12

Shattered Lies

Chapter 12

Roy Montgomery's eyes are stern as he stares up at Kate from behind his desk. "You've brought a lot more work in here, Beckett. As I understand it, not only are we going to catch the homicides within the jurisdiction of the 12th but under your supervision, any that appear to be related to organized crime, in coordination with the FBI."

"Sir, I never asked for this. When Agent Murphy contacted me, it came as a complete surprise."

A twinkle creeps into Montgomery's eyes. "It shouldn't have. You've made quite a name for yourself, Kate, helping the Feds take down an entire crime family. No doubt Director Mullen can point to that accomplishment the next time he goes before the Oversight Committee. And there is another upside to this. The commissioner has increased our budget to cover the extra workload. We can take on extra hands when we need them. You could even request a new chair for Castle."

"I don't know about that sir. He's become rather attached to the old one."

"Can I assume he's not the only one who's become attached, and Evelyn can claim her prize."

Kate can feel the heat flowing to her face. "Will that be a problem, Sir?"

"Not if you don't make it one, Detective Beckett. And how is Castle? It may just be about the giant boxes of doughnuts he used to bring in, but folks around here are starting to miss him."

"I think he'll be back today, Sir. He said he had a meeting at Black Pawn, but he should be here soon."

"Great, his handwriting on the murder board is a lot neater than Esposito's."

"Yes, Sir, but I think almost anyone's would be."

* * *

Gina Cowell fingers a printout of Castle's manuscript. "Honestly, Rick, I didn't think you'd be able to bring Storm back, but this works. The influence of your new muse?"

"Is that a spark of green in your eyes, Gina?"

"The icy blonde shakes her head. Rick, I don't want you back any more than you want me back, my only concern is with your work. As long as you can churn it out, you can have a harem for all I care."

"I don't want a harem. I just want one partner who inspires me - in every way."

Gina shrugs and holds up the sheaf of paper. "From this - and that silly ass grin on your face - it looks like you've found one. I'm happy for you, Rick. Really."

"You're happy for Black Pawn's bottom line."

"That too," Gina admits. "So when can I expect your next Storm?"

"Wow! You don't quit, do you? If you want a novella, about a month, more or less, depending on what cases come up for Beckett. I still have to keep up my research for Nikki Heat."

"Right. Your research."

"I was going to say that if you want a full-length book, you should at least double the time, but now you can triple it. Don't push me, Gina. Shadowing Beckett has made me a better - and more profitable - writer than ever. And you know it."

"Fine, just as long as you remember the penalty clauses in your contracts."

"As often as you remind me of them, I'm not about to forget."

* * *

Kate looks up as Castle hands her a coffee and drops heavily into his accustomed, if slightly worse for wear, seat next to her desk. "You OK, Rick?"

"Fine. I've just been reminded of how annoying a publisher can be, or at least one particular publisher."

"Gina. Alexis told me. Honey on your eyeballs and fire ants."

Castle shudders. "I don't think she meant it. It would be difficult for me to give readings with insect-chewed corneas, but the woman can be demanding."

"Have you considered another publisher? With the sales you generate, I'm sure any of the major houses would welcome you with open arms."

"They've made overtures. But to tell you the truth Kate, I have affection for Black Pawn. And I'm grateful to the firm. They took a chance on a college kid when twenty other publishers wouldn't."

"Which paid off for them."

"True. But I had other wranglers before Gina, and I'll have others after her. She is hungry and ambitious. She'll move on and up as soon as she gets the chance. I can wait her out, especially if I do it with you. So, do we have any nice juicy homicides?"

"Could be. There was a body found in Brooklyn who might have been a victim of a member of the Bratva."

"The Russian Mafia?"

"Um-hm. Murphy and I agreed that Clark Murray should examine it, and if he determines that it matches up with the Bratva signature, it will be my case. Murray said he'd have something anytime now."

Kate's cell buzzes on cue.

"Dr. Death?" Castle inquires.

Kate nods as she accepts the call and thumbs the speaker icon. Murray's voice is instantly recognizable, even when he isn't singing opera. "The FBI called this one, Beckett. The victim was killed with a Kizlyar Supreme. And there was black tea in his stomach, Swee-Touch-Nee, a favorite with the Russian crowd. There were remains of blinis and caviar, too. Apparently, the corpse had an expensive snack before he died. There were no defensive wounds on the body. Looks like he knew his killer. He had a tattoo characteristic of the Bratva. It appears it may have been a falling-out among thieves."

Castle grins, rubbing his hands together. "A fatal disagreement within the Russian mob. This is getting good! I can't wait to get on the trail."

"Don't let it get too good, Rick," Murray cautions. "If the killer goes after you with a Kizlyar, the surgeons at Bellevue may not be able to sew you back together again. Be careful. You too, Detective Beckett."

Kate lifts the phone closer to her lips. "Thanks, Dr. Murray. I'll keep that in mind."

Castle wiggles his eyebrows. "So, are we going to Brooklyn?"

"_Da_."

"Your Russian may come in handy. Going to masquerade as a Russian, um, companion again?"

"No, Castle. I thought I'd just play it cool and listen for a while. We just need to find a tea room in Brooklyn that serves blini and caviar."

Castle pulls out his own phone and makes a verbal query. "Brighten Beach Ave. It figures. Right in the heart of little Russia. If you're feeling adventurous, we could take the BMT."

"Adventurous is the one thing Dr. Murray warned us not to be. I'll drive Castle." Rick grimaces. "What's wrong?"

"There's a spring in the passenger seat of your unit that hits me just where … I was hoping that with your new position you'd get a better vehicle, tricked out with all the FBI toys."

"We could stop and get you a pillow," Kate offers. "I think there's a big box store on the way."

Rick shudders. "No thanks. If the boys see me using one I'll never be able to live it down. Maybe I'll just sit in the back. That way I can whisper sweet nothings in your ear, or better yet, nibble on it."

"Castle, if you do that, we may never make it to Brooklyn."

"But we'd really enjoy the ride."

Kate touches a fingertip to his lips. "We can enjoy the ride when we go back to the loft."

"Promise?"

"Detective's honor."


	13. Chapter 13

Shattered Lies

Chapter 13

Gazing around the House of Chai, Castle takes in the furnishings. The red velvet upholstery on the chairs is a bit garish for his taste, but he appreciates the vintage samovars. Unless he's eating Asian food, he usually prefers coffee over tea, but then Russia, having lost the Ukraine, is entirely an Asian country too.

Rick has a hard time, however, getting used to drinking his tea in a glass. Kate doesn't seem to be having any difficulty. He suspects she perfected her skill during her semester abroad. They're both enjoying the blinis and the caviar, but he can tell that Kate's concentration is on anything but the food. The snippets of Russian he can hear floating around the room mean almost nothing to him. She can understand them although she knows better than to give any indication of doing so.

The best he can do is watch for the widening of her pupils, which only he is close enough to see. Not that he would mind staring into her eyes in any case. They are endlessly changing, picking up color from what she is wearing, or flashing emerald when she is aroused. As voices drift to them from a table in the corner, her irises are beginning to show little snatches of green, a hopeful sign.

Castle takes another sip of tea and considers ordering some baklava. The delicate honey-drizzled pastry is not the best match with caviar, but he does love it. On the other hand, the baba rum could be even more fun, especially if it is real rum and the chef has a generous hand.

This has to be it. Kate's eyes are becoming deep pools. He wonders what information could be flowing into her irresistible ears, but they'll need to return to the privacy of her unit before he can find out. Never mind dessert.

"Out with it!" Castle demands as Kate settles behind the steering wheel.

Kate turns to him triumphantly. "The key word in there was betrayal, and what happens when the Bratva finds out about it."

"I never heard Bratva." Castle insists. "I was straining to eavesdrop on something I could recognize."

"No one would use the word in public. That would be like issuing an invitation to be the model for a Russian version of a jack-o-lantern. They talked about the 'organization.' It was just the edge on the way they said it. The people in there sounded scared, Castle. I think the whole community is terrified. Apparently, whoever is heading up the brotherhood now has something of a hair trigger. If he gets even a whiff that someone might oppose him, he sets his minions on them."

"Did you get a name?"

"They just called him _Glava_, which means chief. But they referred to Club 28 as his headquarters. That place was a piece of history around here, but it burned down in the eighties. They must have re-established it somewhere, but it's going to take a little research to find out where."

"Why do I get the feeling that you're going to be reviving an old persona after all - not that she wasn't amazingly attractive, especially when strong-arming a Russian thug. But you've got a passel of detectives at your fingertips, Kate. You don't have to put your very appealing butt on the line."

"As far as I know, there isn't a member of that passel who speaks Russian, Castle, at least not one who could pull this off. But I'm not going to try to do it alone. I can get the boys for backup, and some of Murphy's people as well. And to make it harder for things to go too far, you can play my rich, jealous American boyfriend again."

"I don't have to play your rich, jealous American boyfriend. This time around I AM your rich, jealous American boyfriend. And if things start going south, if you don't call in the cavalry, I will. Deal?"

"Deal, Castle."

* * *

Kate's foray into the streets of Brighton Beach is a nail biter for Castle, despite the grin of an over-monied but otherwise useless man pasted on his face. But it is a snooze for the FBI contingent and frustration for Ryan and Esposito. Kate and Rick tour the velvet ropes, where the doorkeepers seem more than anxious to admit the slinkily clad detective. Once they are inside, there appears to be nothing more going on than drinking, dancing, and the occasional Russian rap interspersed with rock and roll. Kate is about to call it a night at the last club when the rap starts. Something about it sounds off enough that she records it on her phone. She motions Rick toward the exit when the song ends.

Kate walks as casually as she can, with Castle in tow, to the van parked two blocks down the street. Inside, she hands her phone to Agent Goldstein, who plugs it into an interface with the surveillance system. She listens intently as her recording plays inside the vehicle. There doesn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary about the words. "Something about this is bothering me, but I just can't put my finger on it."

"The rhythm is off," Castle points out. "Rap no matter what language it's in has a flow, and even with not knowing what the words mean, it sounds like the accents are in all the wrong places. It's like playing a march as a waltz."

"Play it again," Kate urges Goldstein. "Castle, you're right!" She exclaims after listening for several verses. "There are words emphasized that shouldn't be. We just need to figure out why."

Castle checks his watch. "Kate, it's one a.m. I'm fried, and from the way you've been slipping your feet in and out of those deadly spikes you call shoes and massaging your shoulders - which I would gladly do for you - I'm willing to bet you are too. If you want to be in the best shape to figure this thing out, get some sleep. Meet the problem with your sharpest detection acumen tomorrow - or at least later today."

Kate rubs the back of her neck. "You're probably right, Castle." She turns to Goldstein. "Can you rip a couple of copies of that for me?"

The agent presses a few buttons on his console. "No problem."

"Good, then let's shut down."

* * *

After recording a few brief case notes, Kate strips and pulls on one of Castle's T-shirts to sleep in. The sheets she slips between are cool, but she can feel Castle's warmth radiating beside her. He's already asleep. She isn't sure if it happened when his head hit the pillow or a fraction of a second before, but he was instantly out. He was willing enough, but she probably shouldn't have pushed him so hard. He never mentions it anymore, except when he has to leave for a physical therapy appointment, but he is still healing. And he was right. She's exhausted. As a cop, she knows that when you're tired is when you make mistakes - like missing the faulty rhythm that Castle detected. As she snuggles against his shoulder, she can feel herself relax. She'll sleep. They both will. If they have a brilliant breakthrough, it can shine after the sun comes up.


	14. Chapter 14

Shattered Lies

Chapter 14

Behind her desk at the precinct, Kate pulls headphones over her ears. She listened to the recording back at the loft but hadn't taken down the emphasized words. Kate is running the sound clip laboriously through her computer now to make her notes. Castle wanted to come work with her, but she knew he had a chapter to finish and after getting up to make sure both Alexis and Kate had breakfast, looked like he could use another couple of hours of sleep.

Kate promised him that they could get together for lunch. With any luck, she'll have something by then. The detective had always thought of her Russian as pretty good, but listening for nuance is different than participating in a conversation. If she has to go syllable by syllable she will.

Carefully she makes a list of words in the order she hears them. They make no sense at all. Of course, it wouldn't be as straightforward as stringing them together for a message. Looking at a translation would help, and she starts to make one, humbled by needing to type several words into the Google translation application.

Castle walks off the elevator just as she finishes. "Any blinding flashes of Beckett brilliance?" he inquires.

"No, but you look cheerful - or proud of yourself."

"Perhaps a little of both. I'm ahead of schedule on the new Derrick Storm, and I made it through the exercises my physical therapist gave me without groaning once."

"Are you sure you followed instructions?"

"Kate, I'm wounded! Wait, that's true. I'm insulted. I followed them to the letter. I'm just glad to be making progress."

"More than I can say." She rolls her eyes as she passes him her list of words.

He scans down the column in English. "It looks like one of those word scrambles that come in those fun books Mother used to give me to work in when we were traveling cross country between theaters. I had to figure out what order the words went in."

"That's the problem, Castle. Russian has fewer grammatical rules than English, and the words don't have to be in as precise an order. In some ways that makes it easier to learn, but it makes this harder to figure out."

Castle runs his finger over the list. "Kate, how old did the people in that club look to you?"

"My age, maybe younger."

"So there's a chance that some of them were born here, rather than in Russia, and might just have Russian parents or grandparents."

"It's possible, Castle, but I don't see what you're getting at."

"Kate, that rapper is pretty young, at least from my point of view as the aging father of a teenaged girl."

Kate trails her finger over the skin revealed by the unusually sagging neckline of Rick's shirt. "Castle you're not that ancient."

"My point is that the rapper is young enough that he might think in English, not Russian, even if he raps in the language of his forbears. So the Russian words could be in the order they'd appear in English. Let me play with the English version and see what I get - after lunch - or better still, over lunch. I often think better in a convivial atmosphere."

"I'm almost afraid to ask. What convivial atmosphere are you talking about?"

"Hands Across the Table."

"You mean that place where they put all the food on one side of the table, and you sit on the other and have to reach for it?"

"It can make for some interesting collisions, don't you think?"

"Or be like eating in a college dining hall waiting for a food fight to break out."

Castle cups her cheek. "Come on Kate, it will be fun - and I've always loved food fights."

Kate covers the upward turn of her lips with her fingers. "Yeah, me too. But I think I'd better change first. I was wondering why you were wearing that shirt."

Kate by now you should know, I come prepared."

* * *

When Rick offers to lick the guacamole off her arm, Kate wishes they weren't in the middle of a crowded restaurant, but in between tries to satisfy his lust for oral gratification, he has been working. He's putting words together in ways that are starting to make sense as clues to places and times. He's also pointed out an undercurrent of threat. Trust a writer to detect that, but then he was the one who picked up on the messaging theme, to begin with.

By the time Kate pops the last pita dipping chip into his mouth, Rick's almost finished untangling the riddle. He gives her a list of three places to stake out and the times when something may go down. She's more grateful than ever for the extra resources Montgomery and Murphy have been able to put at her disposal.

From what Castle has so far, nothing is due to happen until the next day. She can catch up on writing her reports at the precinct. Maybe she'll even get a little help from her favorite wordsmith.

* * *

Jackson scans the readout on Russian operations in New York. Typically, he wouldn't be concerned with it. Domestic crime is the FBI's business; the company is more interested in national security. But Rick's name pops out at him. His son was at the epicenter of activity. And so was Kate. Of course. Rick is following her around like a puppy, the way he has for the past two years, except when he played guard dog. Jackson pages through the full report. A minor player was murdered, apparently for defying the will of Glava - or maybe the crime boss who fancies himself a potentate just had a temper tantrum. According to what Jackson's reading, there have been quite of few of those in the past few months, generally ending in violence, but nothing that garnered police attention.

The FBI, in the person of Kate's new boss Murphy, has been keeping an eye on the situation. Until the discovery of a body, nothing happened that was worthy of more than a notation in one of the FBI's voluminous files. But now Kate and Richard are involved. That bears watching.

If Glava is behaving irrationally, that makes him more dangerous, and if the kids are wading into that mess, anything could happen, and whatever does is unlikely to be good. Hunt could send Glava straight to hell easily enough, but that would prompt attention from overseas, possibly creating a worse situation. The Kremlin's boys are nastier - and more competent - than the Brighton Beach lackeys.

If Glava gets too out of hand, it's possible that the FSB will decide to take him out themselves. That could give the company a new handle on at least one of their operatives. Maybe Jackson's son and his girlfriend have opened up an unexpected opportunity. But if the FSB is involved, the couple may also be walking into a lot more trouble than they bargained for. Hunt can contact the listening post that intercepts FSB communications. If the Russian CIA decides to make the misbehavior of Glava their problem, they'll know about it. Jackson may have to step in, and the real games will begin.


	15. Chapter 15

Shattered Lies

Chapter 15

"What do you mean Dr. Kuryakin has left the country?" the Glava demands.

Sergei clenches his hands behind his back where the leader can't see them. Kuryakin had told him in no uncertain terms that he was tired of patching up the victims of the Glava's tantrums and was going to a tropical island where the Bratva has no presence. Kuryakin was planning to set up a small practice for tourists who cut their feet on shells and suffer the occasional jellyfish sting.

Apparently, the good doctor had been stowing away his money for some time to stage his escape. He took off in the middle of the night leaving no contact information, his cell phone behind, and no forwarding address. But Sergei can't tell the Glava that, especially with no doctor to patch him up if his boss explodes again.

"Sir, he said he needed a vacation."

Glava springs from his chair, pushing it back hard enough to make it slam to the floor. "A vacation! The Brotherhood doesn't take vacations, and he asked no permission to leave. Get him back here!"

Sergei steps back a foot and chews the inside of his lower lip. "I can't, Sir. His phone is out of service, and we have no way to locate him. I can attempt to get another doctor, put out the word in our community. I'm sure we can find one who will show you more respect."

"I want one yesterday, and make sure he knows that he'll have to be available at all times."

"Yes sir, I understand."

* * *

Sidney Perlmutter hasn't had many visitors, none actually, except for his lawyer. He's hoping that it's Edgar, who unlike Sidney, was not directly implicated in Balthazar Wolf's murder and is free to wreck his life even further. Sidney isn't even sure what he'd say to his twin, but demanding an apology would be a good start.

The large man in the throw-back suit is obviously not Edgar. "Dr. Perlmutter, I'm Special Agent Seamus Murphy, and I understand that you speak Russian."

Perlmutter gazes at Murphy in bewilderment. "Yes, my mother was a Russian immigrant. I picked it up as a child. What does that have to do with my incarceration?"

"Dr. Perlmutter, I may be able to help you cut it short. I, on behalf of the FBI, have a proposition for you. The Russian mob in New York is desperate to recruit a doctor. We have an open investigation into its activities, including a homicide. The lead detective from the N.Y.P.D. is Katherine Beckett. I believe you're acquainted with her."

Perlmutter sputters. "Of course we're acquainted, it was her investigation that put me in here."

Murphy continues, unruffled. "Being an accomplice to a murder is what put you behind bars, Doctor, but I'm presenting you with a chance to redeem yourself. We need an inside man. We'll give you a backstory as a disgraced doctor released on good behavior due to prison overcrowding and help you apply for the job. You keep your eyes and ears open. We'll provide you with a drop and an encrypted number so you can pass on information. You give us something that helps us take the organization down, and we intervene to get you very early parole."

Perlmutter grips the edge of the table "How early?"

"As soon as we make our arrests."

Perlmutter pictures digging into a Russian pot roast, like his mother made, and drinking a decent cup of tea. Maybe, someday, he'll even get a chance to indulge the love of Wagner he inherited from his father again. But there's something else he misses more. "What happened to my dog?"

"Your dog?" Murphy repeats.

"Scalpel, my toy poodle. I have no idea what became of him after I was arrested. Someone might have handed him over to my brother, but I don't know. If I'm going to have to put up with live patients, especially criminals, I need my dog."

Murphy shrugs. "Dr. Perlmutter, the FBI will do what it can to locate your Scalpel."

* * *

From inside the FBI van, Kate regards the screen displaying the feed from a camera pointed at the entrance to _Prosypaysya_, the Russian bookstore. She stares at her watch. "It's 20 minutes past the time in the rap message. Maybe we got it wrong."

Castle points at a man approaching the door. "Or maybe we didn't. He doesn't look like much of a reader to me."

"And he's armed," Murphy's second in command, Agent Palicki notices.

"Not even subtle about it," Castle points out. "It's like he wants the bulge to show."

"He just might," Kate suggests, "if he's going in to strongarm someone."

Palicki pushes a button. "If he is we should be able to hear it on the bug you planted at the register."

"They're speaking Russian," Castle notes, unnecessarily.

"The gunman is telling a Pavlovitch, that must be the owner, that he is too outspoken about the tributes Glava is collecting," Kate interprets. "Pavlovitch tells him where he can shove it. Good for him!"

The sound of a groan erupts from a speaker. "Or not so good," Castle interjects.

Kate and Palicki are already moving toward the exit of the van. The blood dripping down the side of Pavlovitch's face as he sinks to the floor makes it apparent that he has been pistol whipped. The thug is pointing a Makarov pistol at him.

Kate shouts something in Russian that Castle takes as "freeze." The thug turns, only to be met by the muzzles of both Kate's and Palicki's guns.

Castle hunkers down next to Pavlovitch. "We'll get you some help, sir."

Pavlovitch swipes at the blood on his cheek. "The help I need is to get these bastards out of Brighton Beach."

Kate cuffs Pavlovitch's attacker. "Yes, sir. We agree."

* * *

"You really think that Boris - oh, that name always makes me think of 'moose and squirrel' - could have decoded the rap?" Castle wonders after Kate secures the prisoner in a holding cell. "He seems more brawn than brains."

Kate sighs through tightly drawn lips. "You're right, Castle. He's way down the chain. Someone probably transmitted orders to him. But we can check out his phone, his car, his place, see if we can find a connection to the next person up the line. We'll work in from the edges toward the center."

"Sounds like it might be a long process."

"Maybe, but Murphy said something about trying to embed someone at a higher level. I believe he's going at this from two directions."

"Ah, a classic pincer movement. The man doesn't just dress like someone out of the 1940s; he must love World War II movies."

"Whatever he loves or doesn't love, he's smart. We'll let Boris stew for a while before I interrogate him. Bullies like him are always cowards. When they see their lives ahead as playing protect your six in a prison shower, they'll talk. We'll just have to give him a night to imagine the worst."

"While he's imagining the worst, what are we going to do?" Castle queries.

"You know those strawberries you were going to dip in dark chocolate for me? You never had a chance to do it."

"I can certainly rectify that situation. And then what did you have in mind?"

"Oh, I don't know, Castle. We'll just have to see what comes up."


	16. Chapter 16

Shattered Lies

Chapter 16

Circling her lips with the tip of her tongue, Kate savors the melding of flavors in her last chocolate dipped strawberry. She can detect the scent of vanilla wafting from the bedroom, where Castle has lit the hand-crafted aromatic candles.

He's definitely going out of his way to set the stage for the evening. His latest iteration of her favorite pasta dish was the best yet, and sweet, mellow saxophone music is drifting through the loft.

Much as Rick seems to enjoy it when she comes to bed in her N.Y.P.D. T-shirt, she's planning on something sexier tonight. She'd bought it on an impulse when shopping with Lanie, while Tom was still her not-so-significant other. It never seemed right to wear it for the robbery cop. It would have promised more than she was willing to give.

But the garment issues an invitation she's more than ready to offer to Rick. She wants to feel his fingers untying the ribbons that hold the translucent pieces of almost nothing together. She needs the warmth of his hands, the touch of his mouth on her skin. Waving her hand in front of her face, she fans herself as a rush of blood heats her cheeks. Why the hell did she wait two years?

Rather than undress in front of Rick, she decides to slip her come-hither-lingerie on in the bathroom and cover it with a silk kimono that he can untie, the first step to what will follow.

By the time she finishes her preparations, Rick's waiting for her between fresh sheets. What she can see of his chest is bare, his scar is hidden, but she has no idea if he's left his shorts on or not. In his own silent invitation, he folds back the covers next to him and reaches out to pull on her sash. As her coverup drops to the floor, Kate slides in beside him, pressing against his body. No shorts, just Castle, all of him, reaching for her.

Rick can still taste the sweetness of berries and the darkness of chocolate deep on Kate's tongue as they mingle with the remnants of the freshness of toothpaste. It's all delicious. Kate is all delicious, and he wants to sample every inch of her. The first bow on her filmy fabric tease opens with a tug from his teeth, revealing the creamy skin of her breasts beneath.

The pink sentries are straining upward. She gasps as he sucks one and then the other to full glory. Kate rubs against him, her breath coming in pants. "Rick, I need…"

His mouth moves lower to the epicenter of her urgency. It is already firm and wanting, but grows beneath his attentions as Kate buries her fingers in his hair, grasping his head tightly against her. She bucks beneath him, every nerve alive, until crying out as the waves of release surge through her.

Kate is still for a moment, regathering her strength and her senses, before her seeking fingers find Rick, hard and past ready for her. He moans as her lips surround him. She takes in as much of him as she can. He is a big man, and at times she'd idly wondered if everything was in proportion. It's a bit more so. Kate strokes him where she knows a deep sensitivity lies. She can feel his body stiffen as she tastes the first drop.

She doesn't always let it happen but tonight she will. She wants Castle, every part of him. She takes it all. She can see his muscles relax, as he lies, his only movement the rise and fall of his chest. She snuggles against him and pulls up the sheet, long before kicked to the foot of the bed. Sleep quickly overcomes them both.

* * *

Boris stares across the table in the interrogation room at Kate and Castle. He knows what she's doing there. Even if she hadn't pointed her gun at him and been the one to cuff his wrists, everything about her says cop. He can almost smell it. But he has no idea who the guy next to her is, except that he seems vaguely familiar as if Boris has seen him on TV or something. Yeah, that's it. He was on Kimmel. He's the writer who shadows a lady cop - the lady cop about to do the questioning.

Kimmel had been discussing how the unlikely partners helped put a crime family away. Not Bratva, of course, just the Italians. Still, Boris knows he's in deep _gavno_. Even if Pavlovitch doesn't testify, the cops - _pizdets_\- the New York cops and the Feds, caught him. From what he's heard, Glava will be furious, but then Glava is always raging. Right now he has to do what he can to save his own _zhopa_.

Boris can't tell Detective Beckett much. He doesn't know much. He gets his orders from Dobry. At least the identity of his superior is something he can trade.

She hasn't even asked him anything yet, but Kate can see all the signs that Boris is about to break. Even at six foot four and at least two hundred forty pounds, he's more of a wuss than she guessed he'd be. This interview is going to be easy.

* * *

Sidney Perlmutter gathers Scalpel into his arms. The pound! His dog was at the pound, and in one more day would have breathed his last. At least they took care of him, which is probably more than Edgar would have done. Scalpel could use a trip to the groomers, and some toys, but he's clean and seems to be well fed.

Sidney gazes around the apartment Agent Murphy stuck him in before Agent Palicki brought Scalpel. The place isn't bad. The kitchen is too small, and the only window faces an airshaft, but it's ten times better than his cell, and once he stocks up on groceries, he can cook some decent food. What he'll be able to get in Brighton Beach should be even better, if he lives to eat it.

In his FBI-created identity, Sidney has an appointment that afternoon with an unnamed member of the Bratva. He has little hesitation about proving his credentials. The Feds may have dreamed up his background, but his medical skill is real enough - and pretty outstanding in his own estimation. He has no idea what the Brotherhood will expect of him. Whatever it is, he will have to agree and hope for the best. At least Agent Murphy promised that if anything happens to Sidney that Scalpel will have a good home.

Murphy promised to check on Edgar too. As much as Sidney knows, his brother might have fallen off the edge of the earth. Maybe he's found a job somewhere away from New York. People can always use accountants, just like they can always use doctors.

But Sidney can't worry about his twin anymore right now. He has a job to do, and his whole future depends on doing it right. He'll have a chance to take Scalpel for a walk and pick up some of the tiny cans of food the dog likes so much, but after that, it will be hammer time. The only question is will Sidney be the one swinging it, or will it fall squarely against his own head.

Scalpel yips and licks Sidney's face. At least someone is in his corner. That will have to be enough.


	17. Chapter 17

Shattered Lies

Chapter 17

Sergei stares at the thin, balding doctor. He doesn't look much like someone who lost his license for committing Medicare fraud, but then appearances can be deceiving. Apparently, from what Sergei's been able to find out, what the man did was very straightforward. He left open samples out for a few days to get contaminated and then charged the government for analyzing them.

If there's anything that surprises Sergei, it's that the inept bureaucracy in America ever caught the doctor - Jarod Weiss. In any case, unless the man buckles under assault from Glava, finding Weiss is a lucky break. The doctor needs the work, and he is unlikely to have anything to do with cops.

Testing him will be easy enough. Dobry didn't dodge fast enough when Glava threw a chair at him after that idiot Boris was arrested. Glava was angrier that he missed getting his tribute from Pavlovitch than at having one of his low-level soldiers hauled off to jail, but in any case, Dobry suffered Glava's attack.

Sergei's lieutenant may just be bruised, but he has a sizable lump on his head, and his wrist is swollen. Weiss will need to patch him up properly without spouting off about sending Dobry to an emergency room. The Bratva maintains its own infirmary. It just needs someone to staff it.

It would have been great if Boris had been able to do more than give Kate the name of a midlevel Bratva operative, but it's a start. Boris was able to add that he received instructions to convince two more uncooperative storeowners to give Glava his due, and since he wasn't able to take care of business, he assumes someone else will be appointed to the job.

The addresses Boris gives - if not the times - missed due to Boris' capture, jibe with the addresses Castle was able to decode from the rap at the club. Kate can stake out one location herself, with Castle and Palicki, and coordinate with Murphy to have the boys stake out the other one.

* * *

Kate's target is another teahouse, not nearly as ostentatious as House of Chai - more of a hole in the wall. But it seems to be popular with the locals, so popular that she wonders if something is going on inside besides the serving of tea and accompaniments. She considers going in, but in a place like that, she'd immediately be flagged as an outsider. Mouths would close to any purpose other than eating and drinking. If one of Dobry's goons shows up and she can charge to the rescue, the patrons may be more forthcoming.

The morning is slowly stretching into afternoon. Castle brought a cooler with fairly substantial snacks including thick roast beef sandwiches and chips with his beloved guacamole.

Kate is finishing up the last of a bottle of cream soda when a Boris clone makes his appearance. Like his unfortunate predecessor, he is large and very obviously carrying. If Boris's attack on Pavlovitch is anything to go by, the thug will get right to business. Kate decides to allow him two minutes before following him in.

"What the hell?" Castle exclaims after less than that time has passed. "It sounds like there's a riot going on in there!"

Holding their weapons at ready, Kate and Palicki both breach the building to find the Bratva operative on the floor, being pelted by pastries and anything else the crowd of people surrounding him can find to throw.

Castle looks around to see if there's something he can grab to join in the fun, but anything toss-worthy seems to have already been snatched from the tables. Kate holds up her badge and shouts something in Russian. Castle assumes that the English version would be "Nobody move!"

Palicki turns to a man who appears to be the proprietor of the establishment. "What happened here?"

The owner points a shaking finger at the man on the floor. "Men like this, they come to rob us, squeeze the life out of us. If we don't give them what they ask for, they beat us, to take what they want."

"Like Pavlovitch?" Castle inquires.

"_Da_. And many before him. We, all of us here, we meet to fight back."

Castle nods approvingly. "You did a good job, but it was a terrible waste of snowball cookies."

"We can take it from here," Kate declares, pulling out her handcuffs.

Dobry's minion doesn't resist, evidently finding arrest preferable to the alternative.

* * *

When Perlmutter arrives, Dobry is lying on a bed holding an ice pack to his wrist. From the angle of the joint, it's clear to the doctor that the wrist is broken. He'd like to be able to take an X-ray, but as far as he can tell, the Bratva infirmary is not equipped for radiology. If Perlmutter has to be around long, he may talk to Sergei about upgrading the facilities. But he'll do the best he can. He finds drawers filled with supplies for splinting and applying casts. And there are plenty of drugs and hypodermics, no doubt obtained illegally, but they will come in handy.

Perlmutter can give Dobry a shot to dull the pain when he sets his wrist. He just hopes the bone lines up well enough so that surgery won't be required to reduce the fracture. Without an X-ray, there is no way to predict the outcome.

The blow to Dobry's head doesn't look serious. The man's pupils are equal and responsive, and he knows what day it is and where he is. Perlmutter sighs. Without an MRI, he can't be sure there's no brain damage - but someone who'd work for a man who'd throw a chair at him might be considered brain-damaged anyway.

* * *

Adrik appreciates the chance to wash off, even if his every move is scrutinized by two uniformed police officers. They lent him some clothes too. They're prominently marked N.Y.P.D., but at least they're not sticky or studded with broken glass.

When the Bratva soldier is finished in the men's room, he's led into another room with the woman who arrested him and the man who was worried about cookies. He's watched enough American television to know he should ask for a lawyer, and the beautiful cop made it clear that he could have one, but he's not sure it would do him much good.

It's evident that the businesses in Brighton Beach are beginning to rebel against Glava. Adrik will have enough witnesses against him to fill a courtroom. But the cop sitting opposite him seems almost sympathetic. And the man beside her is hardly a threat. Perhaps if he answers her questions, she'll let him go. After all, he was the one who was attacked. She saw that.

"Mr. Perchik," Kate begins, using the name Adrik gave when he was brought into the precinct, "how long have you been threatening merchants?"

Sweat begins to trickle down Adrik's back. The detective may be gorgeous, but steel appeared in her eyes. The man beside her is glowering as well. Things are not going to go well for Adrik, not well at all. But he can't think of anything to do but answer the detective's questions. He doesn't even want to think about how Glava will react.

A/N I have a new _The Rookie_ one-shot called "Grip." It begins after "Shakeup." Nolan is worried about measuring up to Jessica's ex, then something life-threatening happens.


	18. Chapter 18

Shattered Lies

Chapter 18

"The new doctor is working out," Sergei reports to Glava. "Dobry has a cast, but he can do his work." Sergei steps back two feet, alert for thrown objects. "But we've had another arrest. The cops got Adrik." Sergei steps back again. "And I hear about resistance."

Glava's eyes darken as his fists clench. "What kind of resistance?"

"From the story I got, the customers at _Chaynaya Komnata_ attacked Adrik even before the cops showed up. They're forming some kind of association to keep from paying for your protection."

"_Ty che, blyad_!" Glava lobs his tape dispenser at artfully dodging Sergei. "We will put a stop to this. You tell Dobry and every one of our soldiers that no one resists. The penalty is death. Do you hear me? And make sure that they know that the terminations should be as painful as possible." Glava crumples a stack of paper from his desk. "Every _zasranec_ who defies me goes down - permanently.

* * *

All Perlmutter can make out when Dobry takes a call while the doctor makes sure that his fracture is stabilized correctly, is that he's talking to someone named Sergei and all hell is about to break loose. Dobry is using a lot of words Sidney never heard from his mother.

Even so, Sidney's grasped enough that he knows he has to get a message to Murphy. It won't be easy. He's checked. The infirmary where he spends his days has cameras. He's willing to bet that it's bugged too. Calling from anywhere around a Bratva property is dangerous. Murphy's drop isn't far away but is outside Bratva's direct control. If he's careful, he can leave a message on his lunch break and hope that Murphy's people will pick it up quickly.

* * *

Murphy studies Perlmutter's scribbled note. Do doctors take courses in illegible handwriting? He can puzzle it out well enough to know that Perlmutter thinks something big is about to go down. Murphy had suspected that would be the case after Boris' arrest and Beckett and Palicki essentially rescuing Adrik from an angry mob.

From what Murphy knows of Glava, nothing will drive him over the edge more than losing his dominance over Little Russia. And when people are in that irrational a state, mistakes happen. Murphy has to take advantage of the chaos while minimizing casualties. He'll need every member of his force and everyone the N.Y.P.D. can spare to keep control of the situation.

* * *

Beckett has an entire squad ready to move in when the expected reprisal comes at _Chaynaya Komnata._ Palicki is with her, but Castle isn't. He had a meeting at Alexis' school, something about French enrichment, and his daughter still comes before crime-busting. If anything, Kate loves him more for that.

"The "l" word pops up in her thoughts on a regular basis now, but she's yet to say it out loud to him. She's not sure why. Maybe it's one of the few bricks in her wall that's left after he's been swinging a sledgehammer at it for two years. He must know. Doesn't he?

She can't think about that now. The massive black SUVs driven by the Bratva aren't the least bit subtle. As she calls in her people, Bratva soldiers pour out onto the sidewalk. She half expects then to goose-step their way to the tea room, but the thunderous pounding of their feet conveys their intentions in no uncertain terms. They'll receive an unpleasant surprise when they find out that the customers hoisting a cup of chai and nibbling on snowball cookies are all FBI agents or members of the N.Y.P.D. The Bratva forces will have just enough rope to hang themselves, and she'll enjoy pulling the lever on the trap door.

* * *

"Dad," Alexis complains "I didn't need permission from the school to pursue an independent study. I could have just decided on my own to do it."

"Except for getting credit for it," Castle reminds her. "I know that your applications for college will already be enough to bowl over any sane admissions officer, but you have to impress the insane ones too, and from what I've read on the parents' of teenagers blogs, they are rapidly increasing in number."

"You shouldn't read those. You're much cooler than any of the other parents."

"Maybe that's what bothers me. Am I leaving you too much to your own devices?"

Alexis puts her hand on his shoulder. "Dad, I've been worried about leaving YOU too much to your own devices. I wasn't the one who got shot trying to play hero."

Castle shoves his fingers through his hair. "Is that what you think I was doing?"

"Well, weren't you?"

"Alexis, I stepped in front of Kate because I love her. And I would have done exactly the same thing for you or Gram."

Alexis rolls her eyes. "Except that no one is shooting at us. Look, Dad, I know how you feel about Detective Beckett. Anyone who's ever seen the two of you together knows it. But I'm going to need a father for a while, OK? And not just to go to meetings at my school or to make me smiley-face pancakes; because I love you and I want you around. So, no more bullets."

"I'll try my best," Castle agrees, "but I need a hug to seal the deal."

Alexis wraps her arms around her father, settling into his chest to hear the reassuring beat of his heart.

* * *

From four blocks away, Jackson watches Glava through a high-powered scope. The man has a history of having the self-control of a two-year-old, but it looks like he's gone around the bend. He sent 25 percent of his soldiers out to be rounded up in a sweep by the FBI and the N.Y.P.D., led by the love of Richard's life, Kate Beckett.

Jackson's question is, what will this throwback to the madness of Rasputin do next? The Bratva forces have been reduced, which may lead to even more desperate action - the kind that Kate and Richard may get caught up in.

And there's a new wrinkle. A numbers guy has contacted the CIA saying he has information on the flow of money from Russia to the United States. From the summary Jackson read, he's some kind of failed securities trader, not the most reliable source. But Jackson's learned that valuable intel can come from the most unlikely places.

Jackson won't sit in on the interview. Very few people know his face, and if he's going to stay above ground, he needs to keep it that way. But he'll be observing. If the would-be tipster is the least bit reliable, he might be of help to take Glava down without an outright termination. That would be better for everyone - especially Kate and Richard.

Until then, Jackson can keep an eye on Glava, at least until the Bratva chief pours enough vodka down his throat to put him out for the night. Jackson might go see Rita then. She is one woman who understands him perfectly. No ties, no demands, no commitment, just satisfying sex. As he waits for the Russian asshole to drink himself into a stupor, her bed is something worth looking forward to.


	19. Chapter 19

Shattered Lies

Chapter 19

Edgar regards the man who identified himself as Agent Danberg. He doesn't look like a spy. If anything he seems more like an insurance agent, but that doesn't make the CPA come trader any less nervous.

Ever since the terrible thing that happened to Sidney because of him, Edgar's been struggling for something - anything - to feel a little less like slime. What he stumbled on while doing some under-the-table bookkeeping wasn't much, but it was something.

He wouldn't have found anything at all if he hadn't been able to read the notes, handwritten in Russian, that were mixed in with his paperwork. It took him a few minutes to realize that "Brotherhood" meant nothing to do with siblings. A Russian bank, one rumored to have ties with the Kremlin, has been propping up the Russian mob, which appears to have fallen on hard times.

Edgar went through all the notes repeatedly and tossed through several sleepless nights before deciding to talk to the CIA. It was easier than he thought it would be. He would never have imagined that the agency would have an online contact form, but it popped right up on his Google search.

The agents who came to his apartment took his copies of the notes, escorted him to an unlabeled building in downtown New York and into the room where he's sitting. A few minutes later, Agent Danberg arrived and introduced himself. "Mr. Perlmutter, we are interested in what you found. It does dovetail with some work the FBI has been doing that we've been keeping an eye on. Is there anything you can tell us besides what's contained in the notes you found? Can you share any details about your employer?"

"My employer," Edgar responds, "owns multiple businesses, none of them doing very well. I assume that's why he hired me instead of some big accounting firm."

"The notes were in Russian. Is he Russian?"

"Half, on his mother's side, like me and my brother."

"Sidney Perlmutter?"

Edgar's brows rise at the mention of his twin, but of course, the CIA would have checked him out. Digging up information is what they do. "Yes, Sidney. As far as I can tell, Viktor Belleson, my employer, isn't cooperating with the mob - or at least not anymore. That may be why his businesses are suffering. He lost several substantial contracts. The best I can figure out, he's been trying to trace the mob connections to find a weak spot he can exploit."

"Like the bank that's been pouring funds into their operation," Danberg prompts.

Edgar nods vigorously. "Exactly. I believe that if Belleson regards the financing as a vulnerability, you, I mean the United States Government, might as well."

"That information could prove helpful, especially given the apparent connection to Putin." Danberg rises from his chair and extends his hand. "Thank you for bringing it to our attention, Mr. Perlmutter. I'll have my agents escort you home."

Edgar stares up at Danberg. "That's it?"

A friendly but dismissive smile appears on Danberg's lips. "As I said, what you brought us may prove helpful, and we'll take it from here."

* * *

From his lair in a top floor apartment in the building four blocks from Bratva's unofficial headquarters, Jackson scans Danberg's report and shakes his head. The Perlmutter twins are an unlikely pair to help take down a bunch of Russian thugs, but stranger things have happened. He recalls UFO enthusiasts searching for little gray men accidentally spotting and photographing a Russian stealth aircraft which hadn't presented enough of a profile for radar to identify. The picture they posted online came in very handy in tracking down the covert factory which was manufacturing the planes — real shame about that accidental explosion that blew up that facility.

Jackson wonders for a moment if an explosion or two might speed along the shutdown of Bratva operations, but there could be collateral damage, and the press would raise too many questions. For the moment, he'll just have to let things play out and make sure Richard and Kate don't get themselves killed.

* * *

Castle stretches as best he can within the confines of the FBI van. Rather than parking, it's been tooling through Brighton Beach trying to spot the next outbreak of activity. He would have loved to pass the time making out with Kate, but apparently on official operations either of the N.Y.P.D. or the FBI, such actions are frowned upon. He's not entirely wasting his time. He has his laptop, and even a power source he can plug into to avoid draining the battery. This adventure, minus the boring parts, is custom made for a Nikki Heat book. He's already typed a couple of thousand words.

Kate is keeping her eye on the three screens displaying the feed from cameras mounted on the outside of the vehicle. She's watching for anything that pops up on either side of the street or behind them. And there they are, about a block back, the massive SUVs. You'd think the Bratva might wise up and use a less obvious form of transportation, but perhaps Glava enjoys the intimidation factor of his choice of conveyance.

Kate signals Palicki who alerts tail cars, allowing the van to pull over until the new target of the Bratva forces reveals itself. She waves her hand in front of Castle's computer display to get his attention. "Things should get more exciting pretty soon."

Ten minutes pass before the FBI tail car transmits an address. Kate grins at Castle. "The soldiers of the Brotherhood have pulled up in front of a bakery."

Castle alternately wiggles his eyebrows. "This should be tasty."

Andrei Slotnik, master of the ptichye moloko cake, was expecting trouble. He prepared for it. His display cases are empty, with his inventory locked in the walk-in refrigerator in his back room. He can leave by the rear door quickly enough to avoid Glava's forces, but he and the other members of the association put their heads together about booby traps to discourage attacks. He settled on something he has readily at hand. Before he slips out, he covers the floor near the entrance to his shop with cooking oil. He half wishes he could stay to watch his would-be attackers fall on their _zadniye kontsy_, but a hidden camera will capture the action. If all goes as he hopes, he can enjoy the video later.

Kate can't stop the giggles that burst free from her mouth when she discovers Glava's soldiers struggling on the floor of the Slotnik _Pekarnya__,_ their clothes soaked with oil. In the flood of Russian curses, there are a few she hasn't heard before.

She can't arrest the downed men for assault, extortion, or even vandalism. They never had the chance to commit any of those offenses. Trespassing and carrying concealed weapons without permits will do for now. At least it will get them off the streets.

* * *

Snuggling on the couch at the loft, Castle holds his phone where Kate can see it and merrily swipes through the pictures. I think I saw something like this on MacGyver, once. It would make a great scene in a book, although Derrick Storm usually does something more combative. It would work for Rook though."

Kate runs her fingertip down his jawbone. "He'd probably use extra virgin olive oil. That's what you'd do."

Castle kisses the tips of her fingers. "Of course. Only the best. But speaking of the best, when we finally got to talk to Slotnik, I begged one of his cakes, the kind with chocolate and whipped cream. I can think of some interesting ways in which we might consume it."

Kate nibbles at his ear. "I can't wait to find out what that writer's mind of yours has dreamed up now."


	20. Chapter 20

Shattered Lies

Chapter 20

Kate stretches luxuriantly against Castle's high thread-count sheets. She and Castle will have to stop by Slotkin's for more of his cakes. Not only was the one Castle brought back to the loft delicious on a plate, but the cream had also provided so many more possibilities. And the second act when she and Castle washed the remnants from each other's skins, was just as satisfying.

The bed beside her is empty, but she can smell the aroma of Castle's special brew. He doesn't usually wake up before she does, but he's helping Alexis transport her newest project to school this morning before their journey to Brighton Beach begins. Since they've both already thoroughly showered he probably just pulled on some clothes before preparing their morning infusion of caffeine.

She checks the closet. Castle made room for some of her clothes both there and in the dresser, but she's running low. She doesn't think she'll have time to wash and dry a load of laundry, even with Castle's top-of-the-line machines, but she can visit her apartment while Castle is off with Alexis. With a T-shirt, hoodie, and jeans, she has enough to get started, in comfort if not high fashion.

Castle is in the kitchen pouring batter on a hot griddle. "Have a seat. I'll have the first stack ready in a few minutes. I like to make these good luck pancakes whenever Alexis has a presentation. They have double the vanilla, and mini-chocolate chips."

"No smiley faces?" Kate inquires.

Castle shakes his head. "Those are for cheer-up pancakes - an entirely different recipe. They have mashed banana and way too much sugar. I make the faces from full-sized chocolate chips - which is a lot faster. I also get to pop a few as chef's reward. By the way, speaking of saving time, when are we supposed to be meeting Palicki and company?"

Kate fills two mugs from the French press coffee maker and breathes in the vapors from one of them. "He said he'd have a team on watch overnight, just in case, but since the Bratva hasn't attacked before 11 a.m., there's no reason for us to be there before 10 or so."

Castle artfully employs his spatula. "The Brotherhood may need some time to recover from their night-befores. Vodka can produce some nasty hangovers. But the timing should work out just about right. We can rendezvous in Brooklyn for our daily assault on Bratva's minions."

* * *

Glava stares in shock at the brief message from the bank. His funds have been cut off. Not only that, but they are demanding repayment of recently allotted monies. With the flow of cash into his coffers almost wholly halted, there is no way he can even support his operations, let alone respond to the bank's request.

_Pizdets_! It has to be a mistake. Khan promised him full support. Sergei would have heard something, but he's out helping Dobry organize the men Glava has left, into a strike team. Glava picks up his cell to call the oligarch's office himself, but an assistant abruptly informs him that Khan can't be disturbed. He tosses his paperweight, a crystal globe encasing a snowstorm over the Kremlin, across the room, but there's no one to hit. It shatters against the wall in a shower of white.

* * *

Dobry counts his available soldiers - again. There are no more than there were a few minutes before. Despite everyone Sergei was able to call in, there wouldn't be enough even if the shop owners weren't fighting back. The way it is, things are hopeless. But Sergei can't tell Glava that, and Dobry absolutely can't. Next time he might have more than a broken arm and a bump on his head.

Glava wants a show of force, but attacking the shop owners has been a catastrophe. Sergei did lay out another possibility. Dobry's men can sabotage the means for doing business. They can block streets and turn away both customers and delivery trucks. Of course, if they destroy the commerce in Little Russia, they will eliminate whatever money Glava can still suck from the merchants - but the tactics Glava has decreed have cut off that flow to at most a slow drip, anyway.

And then there are the police. They've interfered with operations at every turn. Glava wants that threat eliminated. Dobry snorts at the thought. They can't even force booksellers and bakers into line, how the hell are they supposed to go up against the police?

He surveys his troops again, and something flashes in his brain. Anatoly has sniper training. He's bragged about his prowess with a _Dragunov_ often enough. It's time for him to show what he can do. With Anatoly stationed atop a building that will afford a clear view of most of the business district, when the police make their appearance again, he can terminate them - with extreme prejudice. And with permission from Sergei, Dobry will stage a scene to draw them in where he wants them.

* * *

Maria's father had wanted to close down Russian Remembrance, the family shop that offers nesting dolls, babushkas, and many other reminders of the old country. Business was down, and he was terrified of Glava's men. He talked about retiring to Jacksonville in Florida and leaving the whole mess behind.

But Maria could never let it go. She was born in the United States, and her Russian is far from perfect, but the merchandise in the store forms a treasured connection to her heritage. She's alone behind the counter. With the terror Glava's men have been spreading all up and down Brighton Ave., she's not about to put any employees in harm's way.

She can't afford to pay anyone anyway. The tourist trade has tanked, and purchases by locals are becoming practically non-existent. Still, surrounded by the things she grew up with and loves, she's staying put.

The bell over the door tinkles as a man with a cast on his arm enters, followed by two others. They say nothing, but the man with the cast points a gun at her head while the other two grab her. The thugs hold her in front of the shop window where she can be clearly seen, but they make no attempt to stop her from screaming for help. The one with the cast even seems to smile a little as her cries begin to echo down Brighton Ave. Palicki's van screeches to a stop across the street from Russian Remembrance and Kate and Palicki, followed by Castle, charge out.

Anatoly grins as he gazes through his scope. He's missed this, the chance to ply his craft with such deserving targets. They're all wearing Kevlar vests, but it doesn't matter to him. He can accurately hit something a lot smaller than a head, and Sergei gave him full discretion. One of the cops is a woman, and from what he can see, a beautiful one at that. His first bullet will be marked for her and thereby will hang the lesson. No one, man or woman, makes war on the Bratva and lives to tell about it. Her hair is catching the rays of the sun behind him, making his shot that much easier.

Anatoly takes careful aim, compensating for the wind coming in from the ocean. He holds his breath, ready to shoot between the beats of his heart. A crack cuts through the air. Anatoly's heart will beat no more.


	21. Chapter 21

Shattered Lies

Chapter 21

Why the frowny face?" Castle inquires as Kate puzzles over an email on her computer screen.

"I'm reading the report from CSU on the location from where the sniper took out the Bratva shooter."

"I don't know why they're even bothering to try to identify the guy unless it's to give him a medal. The man he killed had a bead on us. If our mysterious savior hadn't shot him, we might both be dead - Palicki and his men too."

Kate grasps the arms of her desk chair. "That may be true, Castle, but it's still a homicide. It may be a justifiable one, but a man is still dead."

Castle studies her expression. "But that's not what is wrinkling your beautiful brow."

Kate sighs. "No, it isn't. Our sniper cleaned up after himself. There was no shell casing. CSU didn't get any fingerprints, and there weren't any cups or water bottles to pull DNA from."

"I'm sensing a 'but.'"

"Yeah. CSU swabbed the drain in the bathroom of the nest he was occupying. Maybe he spit when he was brushing his teeth or cut himself shaving, but they found some DNA there. The suspect wasn't in the system, but someone with a 50 percent match - a son - was."

"Then that should be good news. Who's the son?"

"You are, Castle. The suspect in the homicide of the Bratva sniper is your father." Castle can't draw any air into his lungs or force any words from his mouth. He just stares at Kate. "Babe, are you all right?

Castle scrubs a hand over his face. "I don't know." He presses his palms against her desk to push himself out of his chair. "I need to take a walk; clear my head."

"Do you want some company?"

"Not until I can process this a little. I'll see you later."

* * *

Hunt paces the age-scarred hardwood floor in Rita's apartment in the East Village. "I screwed up. The N.Y.P.D. got a sample of my DNA."

"Why does that matter?" Rita asks. "You're records aren't accessible to them. The company would never let anything be traced to you."

Hunt slams his fist against the wall. "I'm not in their system - but Richard is."

Rita nods slowly, blowing out a long breath. "They'd get a parental match."

"And Kate Beckett would get the report. She must have it by now, and she's probably told him."

"Told him that his father saved their butts? There are worse things, Hunt. Would it have been better if you'd missed?"

"I don't miss. You know that. If I did, I'd have been six feet under a long time ago."

"OK, so now Richard knows. What are you going to do about it?"

Hunt leans against the wall he just punched. "Nothing. You know as well as I do that if I make contact with him, I'd be putting him in the crosshairs of people a lot deadlier than the Bratva. I wish I had a chance to explain."

"Well that's the job, isn't it?"

Jackson sinks into a chair. "Yeah. That's the job."

* * *

Edgar waits near the FBI building, leaning against his car and turning his favorite mechanical pencil over and over in his fingers. According to the text he received from Agent Danberg, Sidney is officially being freed. There is just a stack of bureaucratic crap to cut through. Edgar isn't going to speculate about how Danberg knew that, but he is grateful for the heads up.

As Sidney comes toward the parking lot, it's almost like looking in a mirror. Sidney's hair is shorter than Edgar's, but then he's always kept it that way.

Sidney stops suddenly on seeing his brother. "Does the prodigal return?"

"The prodigal never went anywhere, Sid. I even tried to pick up Scalpel so I could take care of him, but the police wouldn't let me near your apartment. By the time I could get in, he was gone."

"So what have you been doing?"

"Trying to make things right. I even helped out a little in getting rid of the Russian mob in Brooklyn. I heard you did too. I just can't tell you from whom. I doubt anyone shed any tears for that racketeer they called Glava, who killed himself. There was a 24-hour festival in Little Russia after the last of his mob was rounded up.

Sidney smiles in spite of himself. "I spent some time there. The baker, Slotnik, made some great _ponchiki_, almost as good as Mama's."

Edgar puts his hand on his brother's shoulder. "I don't know if you'll ever forgive me for what I put you through, but I hope we can talk. Want to get a coffee?"

"Make it a _chai_."

* * *

Castle still isn't home when Kate returns to the loft, but Alexis is putting together a quiche. "Did your Dad call?"

Alexis stops mincing chives. "Uh huh. He said he'd be home soon, and if you came in, to tell you he's all right, but he sounded weird. What happened Detective Beckett? Did the two of you have a fight or something?"

Kate slowly hangs up her coat. "Nothing like that. Your Father just got some news that he's trying to get a handle on. He may tell you about it when he's ready, but right now he needs some time - and I don't think a hug or two from his favorite daughter would hurt either."

"I'm his only daughter, but I think I understand. It's like when Gram got the part of the crazy granny in a play when she wanted the lead. She just had to get used to people seeing her differently."

"In Castle's case, I think it's more like seeing himself differently, and he has to adjust to it. But I believe he will." Kate points to the partially filled pie crust. "Can I help you with that?"

Alexis shakes her head. "I've got it, but you can make a salad if you want. Dad likes extra tomatoes."

"I know." Kate rummages through the produce in the refrigerator and digs out four red globes, still on the vine. "Then these should do it."

* * *

Castle rubs his thumb over his key for a minute, before unlocking the door to the loft. Thoughts are jumbled in his mind, and walking the streets of New York hasn't made them any straighter. Some things are clear. His father may have saved Kate's life, or his, or both, but he still killed someone to do it, before removing every trace he could of his presence. It seems so cold.

Did he just leave Mother all those years ago, or has he been keeping watch? Does he know he has a granddaughter? Does he care? Why not reveal himself? Is he a super-spy or wanted criminal? Scratch that. A criminal's DNA would have been on file. So Daddy Dearest hasn't done anything against the law - or at least has never been caught.

The questions keep plaguing him from out of the dark, no matter how hard Castle tries to push them away. How could his father desert him like that? And if his father is a killer, did he inherit the genes? Is he one too? Rick shivers as he walks through the door.


	22. Chapter 22

Shattered Lies

Chapter 22

"What's that for?" Castle asks as Alexis throws her arms around his neck.

Alexis pecks his cheek. "Just for being my Dad. And for the scarf that you brought me from Little Russia. Paige thought it was cool."

Castle raises an eyebrow. "I believe the idea was that it was supposed to be warm, but I appreciate the adulation." He glances at the cutting board on the counter. "Have you two ladies been cooking up something?"

Alexis smiles. "It's just a quiche - but it's your favorite, with Canadian bacon instead of ham."

"Clever those Canadians," Castle quips, his smile almost reaching his eyes. "If you're cooking, the least I can do is set the table. Castle pulls colorful stoneware plates out of a cupboard and lays them on even more brightly hued placemats. "This is going to look like Mother did it," he mutters to himself, "but I can at least try to be festive." He lays out the flatware and sparkling glass tumblers.

Rick could really use a glass of wine - or three - or better yet a double scotch, but he doesn't like the message that indulgence would send to his daughter.

The quiche will be in the oven for a while. He'll have some time to talk to Kate - behind the closed door of his office. She's going to want to know what's going on in his head. He wishes he could tell her. He doesn't even get a chance to try. Eduardo, the doorman, buzzes with a message that a delivery has just arrived for Castle by courier, and he's asking if Castle can come down to the lobby to get it. "Yeah, sure, why not?"

Eduardo hands Castle a small padded envelope. Aside from the name and address, it's unmarked. "Who brought this?"

Eduardo shrugs. "_Yo no se_. Not UPS or FedEx. Tall dude, white hair. Said it was a special delivery."

Castle slips Eduardo a ten dollar bill. "Thanks."

The pull tab breaks as Castle tries to zip his parcel open on the elevator back to the loft. He rolls his eyes, "Of course," then pulls out the pocket knife he bought before taking Alex on their last camping trip and slit the mailer open.

A copy of _Casino Royale_. It's been one of his favorite books since a stranger handed him a copy at the library when he was ten years old. He examines the dust jacket before flipping the volume open to the title page. It's exactly the same edition. He tries to dredge up an image of the man he met that day. He can remember tall - towering to a ten-year-old - but probably only a couple of inches taller than Castle is now. His eyes and hair were brown, but the hair would probably be gray or white now.

Could that have been his father in the stacks all those years ago, and in the lobby now? Mother had taken Rick's younger self to the library. She would have recognized Castle's father, but she had gone in search of a payphone to call her agent before the man showed up.

And why _Casino Royale_? The character of James Bond is handsome and charismatic, but also an unhesitating killer when he feels it's warranted. That's what an "OO" is about. So if that was his father, was he sending his boy a message about his life? Did he just try again with the ostensibly grown-up version? If he did, it would explain a hell of a lot, but it doesn't make Castle feel more sanguine about his potential heritage.

The wrenching questions still remain, but he's not going to get any answers. He pastes his best semblance of a smile back on his face — no reason to ruin the evening for Alexis or Kate.

* * *

Kate climbs into bed next to Rick. He's wearing a T-shirt and shorts, and she can see the tension in his body, as he props his head on his forearm. "You're not feeling any better, are you?"

He doesn't move, his gaze on the city lights reflecting from the ceiling. "Kate, I've been trying to wrap my mind around the whole father thing ever since you told me what CSU found, and I'm not getting anywhere."

"Castle, your father's been a mystery for your entire life. But at least you know he's alive and watching out for you - for us. That has to be worth something."

He rolls to face her. "You're right. It's just that I'd made peace with not having a father around. I could imagine him as anything - doctor, lawyer, Indian chief, inventor of whipped cream in a can. But now I can only see him as a man with a gun; a man who has no wish to be identified or be part of the life of this family."

"Castle, he must have a reason. And if it weren't for him, you might not be here to question his motives. I might not either. I'm going to accept what he did as a gift - to both of us. You're like him in a way, you know. You saved my life. If that's the legacy he's given you, you should accept it. I wish there could have been someone like him to watch over my mother."

Castle caresses her cheekbone with his fingertips. "You know, you're pretty smart - for a cop."

Grabbing her pillow from behind her, Kate swings it at Rick's head. "Smart for a cop, huh?"

He raises his arms to fend off the assault. "And perceptive, gorgeous, and the sexiest woman I've ever known."

Kate drops the pillow, leaning in for a kiss. "I guess I can accept that."

Castle eases the strap of her teddy off her shoulder to sample the skin beneath. "And you taste better than Canadian bacon."

Kate cups the back of his head. "You probably should have stopped with sexiest."

Castle threads his fingers into the silk of Kate's hair. "Shutting up, now."

She brings her lips to his. "Smartest thing you've said all night."

* * *

"Any idea how long you'll be gone?" Rita asks.

Jackson shakes his head. "You know how it is. A mission takes as long as a mission takes. And I'll be incommunicado for most of it, but the company will be keeping tabs on me. You should be able to pick up the chatter about what's going down."

"And what about Richard?"

"What about him? It was enough of a risk just dropping off that book. I can't have anything else to do with him right now."

"Right now? Does that mean you're leaving the chance open for some time in the future?"

"Rita, you know as well as I do, there may not be any future. Missions can go south at any time. That's as true of yours as it is of mine. I'll get through this one - if I can. What happens after that, no one knows."

"You'll get through it, Jackson. You always find a way."

"Right now I'm just interested in getting through the night."

"With that, I can help."

Jackson scoops her up in arms that have lost little strength over the years. "Richard and his family won't be the only thing worth coming back to."


	23. Chapter 23

Shattered Lies

Chapter 23

As the sunlight streaming through the bedroom window spangles Castle's face, he pulls Kate more tightly against his body, inhaling the fragrance of her hair. She stirs in the circle of his arms, eyes still closed, but rolls to face him. He studies her face, serene in the last vestiges of sleep. As Kate's lashes slowly lift, he can see her eyes - brown this morning with the tiniest hint of green. Her passion is banked for now. "So what does the scourge of New York's crime families have planned for today?"

Kate pulls herself up on one elbow. "Tying up loose ends. We never did pin down exactly which member of the Bratva was responsible for the murder that brought me into the case. I have a lot of interviews to conduct, and if I don't get anything that way, I'll start requesting search warrants to find the murder weapon."

"Sounds like a lot of work, but not nearly as much fun as the Russian roundup - minus the almost getting killed part. What can I do?"

"I have the paperwork on all the members of the Bratva we picked up. You can help me go through it, looking for likely suspects."

You mean someone who might actually have some skill with a knife as opposed to pointing large guns at shopkeepers and beating them up?"

"Uh huh, or anything else that pops out at you as a plausible storyline."

"Like coming to New York to exact revenge on someone who stole your fiancée in the old country?"

Kate plants a kiss on the tip of his nose. "I said plausible, Castle, and you don't usually find that kind of information on someone's rap sheet."

"That does take some of the fun out of it, but my rapid absorption of the printed word is yours to command."

* * *

Gleb paces his cell. No one has charged him with murder. The cops haven't even mentioned it, but the crackdown on the Brotherhood took place just after he performed the execution. It must have been what brought the forces to Brighton Beach.

He hadn't wanted to turn on one of his own. He didn't know what Glava perceived as a betrayal. The way things had been, the slight could have been unintentional or even imaginary, but he'd had to obey Glava's orders without question, or he would have been the next one marked for death.

Now the word is that Glava is gone, a coward who took his own life. Dobry was captured at the debacle at Russian Remembrance, and the FBI arrested Sergei on suspicion of racketeering. There's no strength in numbers. There is no strength at all. Whatever will come will come, and he's powerless to stop it.

* * *

Castle sticks his finger in his mouth to suck on a paper cut. "There's not much here, Beckett. Assault, extortion, a couple of petty thefts, possession of unlicensed firearms, but nothing that screams artful assassin."

Kate's forehead descends toward the bridge of her nose. "Have you gone through all the files yet?"

"There are few more but… bam! This guy was arrested by the transit cops when someone spotted a knife on him in the subway. He identified himself as a collector, and since he didn't threaten anyone, the judge let him go with a slap on the wrist. Kate, the knife was the same kind that killed our victim."

Kate reaches for the file. "Castle, this guy was only arraigned yesterday. He's a new fish at Rikers."

"Maybe we should offer him a little conversation as a respite from the tank."

"I'm planning on it."

* * *

Castle usually enjoys visits to Rikers. He loves watching Kate work and occasionally picks up tidbits he can use in his stories. But today the ride seems tedious. Some politician has descended on the city, making a mess of traffic so that a trip that usually takes about 45 minutes stretches to 90. Kate's too busy trying to find a path for her unit, to talk much, and he has way too much time to think.

She was great last night, helping him to push the demon of his parentage down into the depths of his mind. And the sex had been pretty terrific too, even if he was too wiped out to fully enjoy it. But now, the thoughts he'd repressed are beginning to resurface, and not just about his father.

He's let Kate know he loves her in every way that he can. That she's sexually attracted to him is obvious, but she's never said the words, or done anything, to let him know how much of a commitment to him she's willing to make. He can understand that she wants to keep her place. A rent-regulated apartment in New York is an almost impossible thing to find, even if the floors do creak and Castle can hear the guy next door singing in the shower - off key. Rick's more concerned with the walls Kate's constructed around herself, than any made of drywall or plaster.

She has the same unresolved issue influencing everything she does, down to the very reason why she works so hard at being a cop. Kate still hasn't found her mother's killer. Coonan is dead, but that just makes things worse. There's no trail to follow to the man who hired him. She says she doesn't hold Castle responsible for that loss, but he's not always sure he believes her. Could that be the reason she's still holding back that last piece of herself?

If it is, he'll be stymied until he can figure out a new lead in her mother's murder. There has to be something they missed - something he missed - that will help him trumpet down the walls of Jericho. Castle still has a copy of the file Esposito gave him from the archives. When he and Kate finish the day's crimebusting for the day, he can go over it again while she catches up on Temptation Lane. God bless the soap that, aside from solving her mother's homicide, is Kate's one obsession. While Lance Hastings has Kate's attention, Johanna Beckett will have Castle's.

The bridge to Rikers is just ahead. It won't be long now before Kate plies her skills across a table from Gleb Niznik, with Castle noting every word she says and every move she makes.

* * *

Senator William Bracken is proud of himself. He's managed to convince his constituents that he's a champion of the environment while simultaneously assuring the rural communities that he won't regulate the runoff from their fields or the effluents from their dairy operations.

It's a couple of years yet until he'll need to seek reelection, the joys of a six-year term, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't need to lay the groundwork now. The money is flowing from his drug operation into the Super Pac that will be funding his campaign. He'll have the money, but he'll still need the votes. Buying air time won't be enough to make his case. The liberals in New York City will love all the ecology crap, but the farmers are more interested in bread and butter issues, especially if the butter comes from their cows.

Bracken's managed to do enough behind-the-scenes wrangling to keep the regulatory pressure off the backs of the voters who will put him over the top, but he has to make sure that the eco-nuts are placated - or silence the voices that would make them twig to the double game he's playing.

It was a shame losing Coonan. The hitman was expensive but worth it. But Bracken has a new guy on board who makes Coonan look like an amateur. And he's cheaper too.


	24. Chapter 24

Shattered Lies

Chapter 24

Fingers twitching, Gleb gazes across the table at the lady cop and the man she introduced as Mr. Castle. "I'm just a low-level soldier. I don't know anything."

"I haven't asked a question yet," Kate points out. "Do you have any hobbies, Mr. Niznik?"

Gleb's mouth gapes. "Hobbies? No. Why would you ask me that?"

"Because after you were arrested for carrying an unusual blade on the subway, you swore under oath that you're a collector. Isn't that a hobby?"

"Maybe, I guess. Yeah, I like knives."

"Where do you keep them?" Castle inquires.

Gleb struggles to shift his focus as sweat begins to roll down his back. "What?"

"Your knives, where do you keep them? A collection implies more than one."

"And when I had my guys search your apartment, they only found one," Kate continues, "the same type you had on the subway and that was also used in the murder of another member of your brotherhood."

Gleb stares down at the blank surface of the metal table. "I don't know anything about that."

"And if the lab finds the victim's DNA in the blood that worked its way between the hilt and blade of your weapon, would you know something then?" Kate presses.

"Gleb's hands fist as perspiration stains bloom under the sleeves of his scrubs. "I don't have to tell you anything."

"No you don't," Kate agrees. "The evidence will speak for itself. You'll be in prison for life, but not here. Sing-Sing will make Rikers look like a luxury suite. But if you tell me the truth, I might be able to talk sweetly to the D.A. about a deal." Kate glances down at her watch. "That offer expires in 30 seconds."

Gleb can hear the time ticking away in his brain. "OK, I did it, but if I hadn't, Glava would have had me taken out too. I had no choice. I'll tell you anything you want to know."

"Yes," Kate confirms, "you will."

* * *

Castle turns to Kate as she steers her unit back over the bridge from Rikers. "I think that's one of the best interrogations I've ever seen you do - and that's saying a lot. How do you know the lab will find blood in the knife? You haven't even seen it."

"That's often where the lab does find it - if they do. But for all I knew, Gleb could have soaked the thing in bleach. I took a chance."

"Brava! So, you got the bad guy - and I won't be getting any more paper cuts for a while. In the mood to celebrate?"

"Are you? Yesterday, anyone would have thought you'd lost your best friend."

"Hardly, considering that right now I'm looking at her. You helped, which means, if anything, you deserve a double reward. Le Cirque? Q3? Craft?"

"How about if we just go to Remy's. None of your havens of fine dining would have a strawberry shake on the menu, and I'm dying for one."

"A woman of simple pleasures."

"In restaurants, maybe, but we can see about other kinds later."

Castle grins. "I'm looking forward to it."

* * *

"So now what?" Rick asks watching Kate sop a french fry in a pool of ketchup. "Back to your detective duties at the 12th until something new pops up for your task force?"

"That's my job, Castle. And I'll still have to wrap up all the paperwork on Niznik."

"Ugh."

"For a writer, you have a strange attitude about paperwork."

"Beckett, writing isn't about putting words on the page or on a computer screen; it's about letting the imagination soar - something frowned upon by bureaucrats."

"Yours hasn't seemed to soar that much with Nikki Heat, except when you had Nikki fall into bed with Rook. You changed the details, like my major at college, but everyone knows she's supposed to be me."

"And that bothers you? Would you want my heroine to be less courageous, less remarkable than you are?"

"That's not the point, Castle. It's just that there are some parts of my life that I'd rather not have in the public eye."

Castle's appetite vanishes. "And you resent me for that?"

"Yes. No. I don't know. It's taken some getting used to, that's all. Like you."

"You're still getting used to me? I was under the impression that we know each other - intimately."

"That's not what I meant. There are some things I'm still dealing with, and it might be easier to do it in private."

"You mean your mother's death?"

"Yes. I spent three years in therapy putting that behind me, and you ripped off the bandage."

"Sometimes wounds need air to heal."

"Sometimes they need more than that."

"You still need answers, and you're not going to be fully comfortable with Nikki Heat - or our relationship - until you get them. I guess I knew that."

"I'm sorry, Castle. That's the way it is."

"Then we'll just have to do something about fixing it."

"How, Castle?"

"Kate, we know who killed your mother; who struck the actual blow. And we know that his motivation was purely monetary. But what about the motivation of whoever hired him? The why is the most important part of any mystery story. What could someone gain from your mother's death, and that of the others connected to her? If we figure that out, it will point us toward the who."

* * *

Bracken needs to give a significant speech. He's met with the craziest of the tree huggers, but he needs to get his message out to the rest of the liberals whose hearts bleed whenever some obscure lizard or bug goes extinct. His venue will have to be in the city, but the question is what location would make the most impact. He considers the Museum of Natural History before dismissing the possibility. A museum would make him seem like a member of the elite to his upstate constituents, but he wants a natural backdrop. A beach would do it, but not an upscale one. He needs one frequented by Joe Blow - like the one at the end of the subway line to Far Rockaway. That would be perfect, the waves behind him and ordinary citizens - even if he has to bus in a few - in rapt attention in front of him. His problem is that Bowdry, the councilman in charge of that area of Queens, is a longstanding adversary, dating back to the days when Bracken was D.A., and he elected not to prosecute the son of a well-connected supporter who was suspected of rape.

Unfortunately, unknown to Bracken at the time, the victim was Bowdry's niece, and the longstanding politico has done his best to throw every possible obstacle in his way ever since. That's something Bracken should have taken care of a long time ago. No matter. His new guy can take care of it now, and Bracken can express his deep despair over the senseless shooting. He might even dedicate his speech to the late, great, Councilman Bowdry. That would hit all the right notes.

Bracken pulls out his second cell phone – prepaid and untraceable. The tall, blue-eyed man at the other end of the call is happy to take it. He can use the work, and he'll enjoy the action.

A/N I have a new The Rookie one-shot, Duty Calls. It follows the episode called Homefront.


	25. Chapter 25

Shattered Lies

Chapter 25

Relieved that Kate wants to return to the loft with him after picking up her collection of Johanna Beckett's papers from her apartment, Castle helps her lay everything she retrieved out on the table. With a nod from her, he picks up what looks like a combination day runner and address book and begins to leaf through the pages. "Your mother wrote some of this in code."

"She wrote a lot of things that way. She was fascinated by codes, ciphers, how all of that worked. Mom did an honors project in cryptography when she was in college. She was even more into it after she went to law school. She hoped that if prosecutors ever succeeded in subpoenaing anything in which she wrote her private thoughts, they wouldn't be able to read it. She even told me that she wished you would put more crypto in your stories."

"Yet another one of my failings with the Beckett family. I imagine she would have loved Dan Brown if she'd lived to read his books."

Kate shrugs. "Maybe. She would have liked the symbology, but once I read a couple of them, I could figure out who the killer was. Mom probably could have too. At least your books aren't that predictable."

"Well, thanks for that. But it looks like she used a couple of different methods here. There are hooky things that look like an outdated type of shorthand I've seen in some old references. But she also has a simplified form in her calendar - shortened words and slashes."

"I know about the hooks. She made them look something like Pitman shorthand, but the symbols are her own. I never knew what any of them meant, and I haven't been able to figure them out."

"Oh, I read about Pitman. His symbols are phonetic but native to British English. Your mother's could be based on American English. At the very least, that would change the vowel pronunciation. We could look at that, maybe search for the most common sounds like from the letter 'E.'"

"You're into cryptography, too?"

"Not that much, but I'm a whiz at Scrabble® and hangman. I could probably win a bundle on Wheel of Fortune. In those games, more words are built around 'Es' than any other letter. There's a sequence that typesetting machines have, containing the most common letters; etaoin shrdlu."

"That sounds like a Lovecraft monster or an ancient shrine."

"One we could worship at if it helps us figure out what your mother was writing, but I think what she did in her calendar would make for an easier start. Is there a specific event you can remember that we could use to puzzle out her notations?"

Kate pales. "The day she died. She was supposed to meet Dad and me for dinner." She takes the leather-covered book from Castle's hands. "Here. It looks like a shortened version of meet Jim and Katie at Patroni's. That's a steakhouse both she and my father liked. It was semi-famous for having its own cattle herd - grass fed. It's out of business now, a victim of the recession."

"I remember that place. I celebrated there when Black Pawn accepted _In A Hail of Bullets._ It was the best meal I'd had since I started college. We could start with that entry. Will you be OK if I look at it?" Kate takes a deep breath before handing the book back. "Right. The 'J' and the 'K' are obvious. Did your parents really call you Katie?"

"My father, mostly. He still does. I think my mom picked it up from him. When I was little, she called me 'Cat' which was short for Catalina. She also said I stretched like a cat."

Castle hides his smile behind his hand as he continues. "So, Petroni's Steak House. She used a 'PTR' and then an 'EZ,' that must be a possessive. And it looks like she used military time."

"She did. She thought it was less ambiguous."

"Smart lady. So we have a couple of the basics. We could work backward and look at her meetings. You can see if anything rings a bell as to why someone would want to go after her and the others." He starts flipping back through the pages. "Looks like she spent a lot of time at Rikers."

"She did. She felt that many of the inmates were convicted unjustly because they were pressured into pleas by overloaded public defenders."

"There's one guy she visited several times before she died. She has a note about 'PGTez Cs.' "Cs is probably 'case,' but any idea who "PGT' would be?"

Kate shakes her head. "No, but Dad put her old files in storage. They're still there. I went through them, but I had no idea what I was looking for. Maybe I do now."

"Are they in one of those places with 24-hour access?"

"Yeah, they are."

* * *

As soon as Kate enters the code that gets her into Jim Beckett's storage unit she goes straight for a banker's box containing "O" through "R" files, repeating "PGT," to herself. Castle hears her gasp as she pulls out a folder. "This has to be it: Joseph Pulgatti. There are letters he wrote to her in here and some paperwork on his case. He claims he was framed but was pressured to plead guilty to avoid the death penalty. He said the D.A. then, Bracken, was crooked and covering up for a drug operation in Washington Heights. Pulgatti admits he was associated with the Cardanos. He said that the family hated Bracken because that operation was trying to spread into their territory and they believed he was helping them do it. Pulgatti thinks Bracken put a murder on him to weaken the Cardanos and protect his pals.

"Doesn't every con claim he was framed?"

"Yeah. Some of this is in her code, but I can read enough to tell why she might have believed him. She has copies of the official documents. The case against Pulgatti had a hole in it. There was no actual witness to the murder he was charged with - just the report of a Detective Raglan. Castle - that's the same detective who told Dad and me that my mother was dead and chalked it up to random gang violence. And the murder Raglan arrested Pulgatti for took place in the same alley where Coonan murdered my mother."

"That can't be a coincidence."

"No, it can't be. We need to talk to Pulgatti."

"Sing-Sing first thing in the morning?"

"As soon as we can get there."

* * *

Kate is tossing and turning beside Castle, but at least she's in his bed. After her revelation at Remy's, he wasn't entirely sure she'd want to be. Whatever their relationship is, she doesn't appear to be ready to abandon it - thank God. Maybe with their visit to Pulgatti tomorrow, they can begin to knock a few more bricks out of her wall, or at least loosen the mortar.

When he reaches out to hold her, he can feel the tension in her muscles release under his touch. As she relaxes, she snuggles into the curve of his body. He wraps his arms around her, listening to her breathe, needing that sound as much as he needs air in his own lungs. If she ever decides to leave, he has no idea how he'd survive. He'll just have to make sure that never happens. The key may lie in Johanna Beckett's Pitmanesque symbols. His slumber comes with pothooks and ciphers whirling through his brain.


	26. Chapter 26

Shattered Lies

Chapter 26

Joe Pulgatti's eyes widen as Kate enters the room where he's been shackled to a table. "Ms. Beckett?"

"Detective Beckett," Kate corrects automatically.

"For a minute I thought I was seeing a ghost, but you're her daughter. She talked about you. Your mother was a beautiful woman, inside and out. You know you look just like her?"

"I'll take that as a compliment, Mr. Pulgatti. Mr. Castle and I have some questions for you. My mother believed that there was a chance you are innocent of Bob Armen's murder. Are you?"

"Are you enough like Johanna Beckett to believe me if I said yes?"

"You tell Mr. Castle and me your story, and we'll see."

Pulgatti rubs his palm across his balding crown. "Sure. What have I got to lose? Bobby Armen was a friend of mine. I didn't know he was an undercover fed. I did know that he was gathering information on Vulcan Simmons' drug operation in the Heights. The family thought they could use it to push back against the Cardanos. And I think your mother believed me when I told her this: Bobby said he thought Bracken, the D.A., was letting Simmons' dealers walk."

"Armen might have been planning to bring that information to the Southern District," Castle speculates.

Pulgatti shrugs. "I don't know. Not the kind of thing Bobby would have spilled to me or anyone in the family. Guido Cardano, Vinny's father, had this thing about smoking. It gave him asthma attacks or something, even the smell of it in the air or on furniture. It wasn't allowed in any family establishment. So, Bobby and I went out to the alley to light up. This guy comes by, sunglasses, baseball cap. Looks like he's just walking his dog. He pulls out a Magnum and shoots Bobby before we can get our pieces out of our holsters. Then he orders me to lie on the ground and count to ten. By the time I'm up again, he's gone."

Kate looks up from her notes. "You remember anything about him besides his hat and sunglasses?"

"Not much that would help. Brown hair I think. Height and weight kinda average."

"Sounds like he could put away the gun and just blend into the crowd," Castle notes.

"There was one thing," Bulgatti adds. "The dog- I've never seen another one like it. It had a really thick coat, like double fur or something and looked like it was wearing a fur hat. There can't have been many like that in New York. Of course, that was 18 years ago, so it's probably gone to doggy heaven."

Kate finishes writing the canine's description. "It still might be a clue, Mr. Pulgatti."

"After all this time you think you can get me off?'

Kate spreads her hands. "That would be a longshot at best, but what you've told me could help lead me to who was responsible for killing my mother."

Pulgatti nods. "Then telling you about it would be worth it."

* * *

Kate glances at Castle, after pointing the car back toward New York City. "What are you doing with your phone?"

"Looking up unusual dog breeds. There's a list here with pictures of 20 of them. Not a lot of fur on most of them - booyah! Double thick coat and looks like it's wearing a fur hat; Kate, that dog was a Tibetan mastiff, one of the rarest of the rare. It would have been registered somewhere. Dog fanciers keep records and have long memories. Someone will know who owned that furry companion."

"Hit the speaker, will you, Castle?" Kate requests when her phone suddenly buzzes from the console between her and Rick.

Ryan's voice emanates from her cell. "Beckett, you need to get in here ASAP. We have a body, and the brass is going to be all over this one. It's Cecil Bowdry, the councilman from over in Rockaway."

"Why's that our case?" Kate queries. "Queens isn't our jurisdiction."

"But City Hall is, and he was shot on his way to a meeting there. Lanie thinks the bullet was from a long-range rifle so it could have come from anywhere within half a mile. Javi says it might have even been farther than that if the sniper was really good. Anyway, the captain's called for all hands on deck, including Castle, if he's with you."

"We'll be there as soon as we can."

* * *

The tall, blue-eyed man who has chosen to call himself Hal Lockwood for the past year gazes with satisfaction at the numbers on his computer screen. Bracken transferred the funds, as promised. Hal glances around what could laughingly be called a suite in his long-term residence motel. He can look for a better place. If he's going to get jobs like this from Bracken, it will be worth hanging around the city for a while.

Lockwood brings up the listings for rentals. He doesn't want an apartment. There are too many people around to see you come and go, but an industrial property like a warehouse would be perfect. He could put whatever he wants in it, including a considerable arsenal, and equip it with whatever amusements he likes.

He might even get himself a girlfriend now - someone who understands his needs and accepts his predilections. C**** like that cost, but he can afford it. He can set himself up nice in New York - real nice.

* * *

Castle uses the rest of the drive back to the city to educate himself on Tibetan mastiffs. The history of the dogs is fascinating, as is the genetics. He's even more interested in awards that members of the breed might have won in New York in the early nineties, but he can't find any useful listings. With some help from Kate, he can go at it from another angle.

According to the characteristics listed for Tibetan mastiffs, they have been bred to be guardians. That means they have features usually considered undesirable in a city-dwelling dog - a lot of barking and aggressive territoriality - that could easily generate complaints. Armen's real killer might not be in the archives of the N.Y.P.D., but his best friend could have earned a place. It's worth checking out.

* * *

Bracken moves fast to make the arrangements for his speech, while a tribute to Cecil Bowdry will still be relevant to the news cycle. He has most of what he needs cued up - a portable podium, sound system, a sign language interpreter and all the other niceties that reinforce his image as an empathetic representative of the people. Bracken has his men casting his audience now, complete with the diversity that will look good on camera, but he still has to finalize the details of his speech. He'll be concentrating on hazards to the ocean, so as not to alienate his upstate base, but he's confident that he can present himself as heroic.

From what he's managed to garner from his source inside 1PP, the N.Y.P.D. doesn't have a clue about Lockwood, but he'll keep an eye on the situation. If an investigation gets close, Lockwood may have to be moved or eliminated. Bracken could even claw back his fee. But if Lockwood did as clean a job as he claimed, Bracken will have more work for him.


	27. Chapter 27

Shattered Lies

Chapter 27

As the text on her computer screen blurs, Kate swipes the back of her hand over her eyes. "Castle, Bowdry was a councilman for over 40 years. There must have been a lot of political opponents who didn't like him. But I can't see anything he's been involved in recently that would make someone want to shoot him."

Castle lays his phone on her desk. "It may not be recent, Kate. We were talking to Pulgatti about events that took place almost two decades ago. The past can come back to haunt you. I put out the word to some of my contacts that I need information on Bowdry, and I just got an email. Turns out that Bowdry has been writing a memoir. Krepkin, that's a boutique publisher based in Queens, is putting it out. It's still in the galley stage, but I think I can get my hands on a copy. Are you OK with having to hit pause on checking out what we got from Bulgatti to investigate Bowdry's murder?"

Kate rakes her hair back. "I have no choice, Castle. I have to be, but I'm hoping that something in Bowdry's book will help us solve the case as quickly as possible. How fast can you get your hands on it?"

"I'll go pay a visit to Krepkin now. I used to, um – never mind – going to the elevator."

* * *

Castle remembers Missy Jensen fondly, at least up to the moment she dumped her root beer on his head. It turned out it was a misunderstanding. She thought he was cheating on her with Sandy Petersen, but they had just been up late together trying to compensate for their shared procrastination on a junior midterm project. He never dated Missy again, but they remained friends into adulthood, still meeting for coffee occasionally to share publishing world gossip.

Missy is the gatekeeper at Krepkin. If anyone can get him a look at Bowdry's remembrances, she can. Kate could probably get a warrant, but it would take time to convince a judge, even Markway, and asking is a lot friendlier. Rick's also picked up a root beer float and a dozen of Missy's favorite molasses lace cookies to encourage her to accommodate the investigation.

* * *

Missy's cup gurgles loudly as she sucks deeply on her straw. "Ricky, I needed this. Harper Collins just snagged an author we were after, and the boss is on the warpath. I don't suppose I could convince you to leave Black Pawn to make him happy again?"

Castle attempts to look as regretful as possible. "I'm under contract for two more Derrick Storms and two more Nikki Heats, and they have an option for more. But if there's another project you'd like me to work on, perhaps my own memoir of crime solving, I might be amenable."

Missy stares at the face that has yet to lose its boyish charm. "I think you're a little young to be writing your memoirs. You better be, because we're the same age. But that's not why you're here, is it?"

"No," Castle admits. "You heard about Bowdry's murder?"

"I don't live in a cave, Ricky."

"Rumor has it that you are in possession of his life story. My muse, well the whole gaggle of detectives at the 12th precinct really, is on the case. If you could give me a copy - not for public release, it would help a lot in tracking down his killer."

"Hey, I liked Bowdry. He was a sweet old guy; he helped a cousin of mine straighten out a zoning problem. But Ricky, if I release the galleys to you, I'm going to need you to sign our standard confidentiality agreement. If any of the book leaks, you're going to be on the hook for some hefty damages. The memoir of a dead councilman - a murdered one - is worth a lot more than remembrances of a live politician."

In Castle's mind, there's no contest. Helping Kate to get back to solving her mother's murder and kick down the remaining barrier between them is worth any amount of money. And as close to the vest as Kate keeps things, nothing is going to leak anyway. Castle pulls out his lucky pen. "Hand me the paperwork."

* * *

Stuck in his reading corner in the lounge off the bullpen, Castle isn't sure whether to be grateful or not that the days of paper galleys are gone. Electronic versions, like the one he's perusing right now, are more convenient but don't have the feel or even the smell of the long sheets of paper on which editors used to make their corrections. Bowdry's recounting also might have seemed more riveting on the printed page. Maybe not.

Bowdry's story is a lot like the way Castle sees baseball - a few fateful moments separated by long stretches of boredom. But amid descriptions of political maneuverings, the late pol shifts to a subject Castle hadn't expected, the rape of Bowdry's niece and a suspected coverup by a corrupt district attorney.

Castle can't find Kate fast enough. She's not at her desk. He's willing to barge into the ladies room to find her; he's done it before. But he checks the breakroom first. Kate is stirring sugar into her coffee. "Since when does the woman who demands two pumps of unsweetened vanilla add the extract of the cane?"

"I need the energy, Castle. Half the borough of Queens could be suspects, but I can't find a strong motive for any of them."

"Then allow me to give you a boost that doesn't involve ingesting unwanted carbs. Bowdry's case may be converging with your mother's murder. Bowdry has a long and very unfriendly history with a certain senator."

"Bracken?"

Castle presses his forefinger to the tip of his nose. "Bingo!"

* * *

Kate stands at the edge of the sand with Castle comfortingly beside her. There is a large crowd between her and Bracken, and the sun is at her back. It would be difficult for the senator to see her, even if he were looking - which he's not. He's saluting the accomplishments of the late Cecil Bowdry and sending his thoughts and prayers to the Bowdry family.

The hypocrisy is sickening, but she's not about to give into the roiling in her stomach at watching the man who may be behind her mother's murder - and Bowdry's - come on like some white knight.

The chances that Bracken could reserve a parking space in Bowdry's domain, let alone give a speech if Bowdry was alive, are practically nonexistent. Kate's read enough of Bowdry's conflicts with the former D.A. to be sure of that. Could Bracken have had him killed just to get the venue?

Kate shivers. Could anyone be that cold, that ruthless? "That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain." Shakespeare knew. Horrifying as it is, there have always been sociopaths like Bracken; like Ted Bundy; all charm on the outside and total blackness within. When she gets through, there will be one less out in the world. She silently swears that to her mother and herself.

Castle can see the whitening of Kate's face and the digging of her nails into her palms. At that moment, he can't do much more than put his arm around her, but he hopes his message is clear. She's not facing Bracken alone.


	28. Chapter 28

Shattered Lies

Chapter 28

Kate's fingers tighten on the steering wheel as she drives back to the 12th. "Castle, we have to dig into the relationship between Bowdry and Bracken. Can you go back to Krepkin and ask for any notes on it they might have from Bowdry?"

Castle fidgets with his phone before answering. "Kate, I could do that, but until the book is released, we can't - I can't - do anything that would make information from the book public. I think Missy Jensen would have made me sign the agreement in blood if she could have. Krepkin would sue me, and they might even sue the department. The blow to my bank account aside, having a public proceeding like that would give Bracken a chance to spin things his way, and if the performance he just gave is any indication, he's terrifyingly good at that."

Kate draws her bottom lip between her teeth. "Yes, he is. How long do you think it will be before Krepkin puts out the book?"

"Not long. They're rushing it to press to cash in on Bowdry's death before it gets too far behind the news cycle."

"That's ghoulish."

"That's the business. If I had died from my wound, Black Pawn would have reissued everything I wrote, and your signed first editions would have been worth a fortune - a small one."

"Rick, I don't even want to think about that."

"Nice to know. But there is another way to go at it. Remember the dog that the shooter Pulgatti described had? Awards from shows were a bust, but I had another canine angle I was going to follow on tracing down Armen's real killer. I put it on the back burner when we started investigating Bowdry's murder. Now, however, if we're looking at a way to get at Bracken, it's all the same case."

Kate glances sideways, her eyebrows rising. "What angle, Castle?"

"I want to look for complaints against the dog, maybe even a lawsuit if it bit someone, defending its territory. The owner would be liable for whatever the mastiff did."

"Castle, are you hoping the dog was vicious?"

"The owner was. Don't pets take on the aspects of their owners? Or is it the other way around? No, but really Kate, I'm not saying the pooch was vicious, just doing the job it was bred to do. Can't blame a dog for that. I think it's worth a shot to dig into the records."

Kate brakes too hard at a red light. "If they exist. You might be able to find court papers, although you'd probably have to pay for a subscription search engine to do it."

"Already paid up for research for my books. It's tax deductible. Unfortunately, I'd need a topic and a key number to do a meaningful search, and I'd still be casting a very wide net. But isn't there some dusty N.Y.P.D. archive where long-forgotten complaints are buried for future anthropologists to dig up and puzzle over?"

"If they are anywhere, they'd be in the Municipal Archives on Chambers Street, but not available to the public."

"Ah. But how about to a police detective pursuing an active investigation, and her faithful shadow?"

"I guess we'll find out, Castle."

* * *

Rick catches a black sneeze in his overworked handkerchief. "I wonder when the last time anyone dusted in here was. At least I've found the right boxes. These complaints started 20 years ago. If our canine clue misbehaved, it should be chronicled in here somewhere." He checks his watch. "It's almost four-thirty. That gives us about another half hour before the crypt keeper banishes us for the night."

"Just as well," Kate replies, coughing into her sleeve. "Any longer and we might have to call in the paramedics to give us oxygen."

Castle flips through one file after another, before his jaw drops. "Kate, I think I found it! A citizen repeatedly cited because of excessive barking from his dog - described as a Tibetan mastiff. The owner's name is Percy Doof."

"Percy Doof? Seriously?"

"Uh huh. If I had to grow up dealing with that name on the schoolyard, I might want to shoot someone too. I wonder what became of his parents?"

"Focus, Castle," Kate insists, smothering a giggle. "What's important is what became of Percy."

A grin splits Castle's face. "With your handy-dandy police access to the DMV database, it shouldn't be hard to find out. And with a name like that, we won't be overwhelmed with hits on Google, or any other search engine either."

"We can go back to the precinct and start running him - unless you need to get home for something with Alexis."

"Nope. She'll be with her string quartet practicing for a performance, and won't be home for hours. Father Castle is free and clear."

* * *

Rick studies the photograph and description in the file Kate assembled. "So that's Percy Doof. His hair is graying now, but he still has some brown in it. And the height and weight match what Pulgatti told us. Kate, Doof has to be Armen's killer."

"Castle, you could be right, but all we have is the word of a convicted murderer and complaints about a dog that murderer claimed he saw. As far as the N.Y.P.D.'s concerned, except for ancient noise complaints, Doof is clean. We need a lot more."

"How about financials?"

"On what grounds would I request them? As far as we know, the man's a model citizen. He sells insurance."

"But he's got to have more money than an insurance salesman. A full-grown Tibetan mastiff can sell for over a million dollars, and the puppies go for thousands. Wow! Beckett, maybe that's how he laundered his hitman fees, by buying and selling rare dogs. He could account for any windfalls by saying he raised one from a puppy. You know what? I'd just love to buy a furry guardian to watch over my daughter. And I'd want the approval of the lady in my life. Kate, we should go see a man about a dog."

Percy scans the email from the mystery writer referred by the kennel club. Richard Castle is a celebrity if a minor one. His daughter might be a target for kidnappers. His request to explore buying a dog to protect her makes sense. Castle is also known for his association with the N.Y.P.D., but the cops have never suspected Percy, and he's been out of the profession for a long time.

Killing a fed wasn't the kind of assignment he preferred. He was willing to do it for Bill - and for the money - but after that, he got out while he could. And he's done well for himself. Selling insurance points him toward potential buyers for his dogs. He bought a great house just before gentrification took hold in his neighborhood, and he has a beamer and a van for transporting his four-legged crew. And if he wants company, a trip to the dog park will usually accomplish his purpose. The ladies just love a man who truly cares for his pets.

All in all, Percy's living a good life. And if Richard Castle can open the door to sales to more best-selling authors, all the better. Maybe he'll redo his kitchen. Doof sends Castle a time and place to look at his kennel.


	29. Chapter 29

Shattered Lies

Chapter 29

Leaning on the fence surrounding his dog runs, Percy Doof proudly shows off his purebred puppies to Rick and Kate. He no longer has a Tibetan mastiff, but he extols the virtues of Akitas, Bullmastiffs, and Central Asian Shepherd dogs. Castle surveys the canines.

Alexis begged for a dog for years, but he'd put her off. With his tour schedules, the pooch would have been consigned to a kennel several times a year, and Castle didn't have the heart to think about doing that. Now that Alexis is a teen, she could be responsible for the pet's care, and Rick would feel more secure for both his daughter and Kate if the loft had a faithful sentinel. He also finds the look on the Central Asian Shepherd puppy's face goofily irresistible.

Kate winces when Doof quotes the $2000 price tag for the shepherd pup, but she can see that it doesn't disturb Castle. He joyfully writes a check for a deposit and arranges for delivery of the new furry Castle and a reference to a trainer.

* * *

"Rick," Kate points out as he drives them to the precinct, "you just bought a puppy from a suspected murderer."

"That's not the dog's fault. Anyway, now that I'm making a major purchase from the man it gives me an excuse to run his credit and a deep background check."

"So you bought a dog as a back door into Doof's financials?"

"I bought a dog to provide extra security to my loved ones - and because it's adorable. I can't wait to show pictures of him to Alexis. But getting us one step further to nailing Bracken will be terrific too. We'll have a list of all Doof's accounts. Something should connect him to the senator, and maybe give us more proof that he murdered Bob Armen. Step by step, isn't that what you're always telling me?"

"I suppose I have said that from time to time," Kate concedes.

"So, I get the info on Doof, we see if it takes us anywhere. By that time Krepkin should release Bowdry's memoir, and we'll have a more solid excuse to look into Bracken as a suspect in his murder. Unless you have a better idea?"

Kate sighs, settling back in the passenger seat. "Not a one."

* * *

"Senator Bracken, your 'speech by the beach,' as the press is calling it, generated a lot of buzz," WNBC reporter Ilana Solomon notes. "Environmental groups are hailing you as their new hero."

"Hardly that," Bracken replies, his lips curling upward in his best ingratiating smile. "I'm just trying to make a cleaner planet for my family and all the families around the world."

"Your proposal for a greener tomorrow was sweeping in scope, but you offered very few details. Would you like to fill in some of them now? How do you propose to control releases to the air, ground, and water, and how do you feel about a carbon tax?"

Bracken fights to retain his glowing demeanor as he can feel upstate votes threatening to slip away. "Well Ilana, I'm putting together a highly qualified team to look into those issues. After all, we can't place undue burdens on small businesses or farmers. They are already facing huge headwinds trying to compete with massive conglomerates. As our plan emerges, I'll be posting my proposals on my website, William Bracken dot com."

"I'm sure we're all looking forward to seeing them, Senator. Thank you for joining me on Late Morning News."

"That sonofabitch isn't going to do anything but mouth off," Ilana whispers to her co-anchor as Bracken departs and commercials roll.

Emerson Naismith shrugs, maintaining his camera-ready smile. "Do any of them?"

* * *

Castle hands Kate copies of his credit and background reports on Doof. "Our puppy lover has a great FICO score, and I don't see any financial connections to Bracken - except that he contributed to his campaign. But look at his educational history."

Kate flips pages. "He went to the same college as Bracken."

"And at the same time," Rick points out. "What do you want to bet that they're old friends, maybe frat brothers?"

"I wouldn't take that bet, Castle, but if we get their yearbook, we just might be able to establish the connection. If it isn't available online, I'll call the school and request one."

Castle checks his watch. "Ooh, time to head home. Alexis and I are going shopping for puppy things - you know, a bed, food and water dispensers, toys, the essentials."

"Right. Castle if I know you, you'll buy out Pet's Palace."

"Only the dog stuff, besides, I'll have Alexis with me to control my enthusiasm - unless she'll need me to control hers."

"OK, Castle, I'll see you later. Leave some room in the loft for humans."

Castle presses a quick kiss to the tip of her nose. "For at least the human I'm looking at, I can guarantee it."

* * *

"Muthaf****r!" Vulcan exclaims as he throws his phone on a weighing table. "That politician's telling us to up our sales so he can buy more publicity for his campaign. Our people are putting out hard everywhere in the city except for Family and Westie territory."

"We could expand our operations into the areas where the cops took down the Spinellis and the Russians", Curtis Green suggests, looking up from the bagging supplies he's unpacking.

"The Cardanos are already moving into the Spinelli neighborhoods, and I don't need a war with Vinny. We could send Jamal and Butch down to Brighton - see what they can do. After the way the cops swept the place, it could be a clean slate. How are we doing for product?"

"We have a sufficient inventory. Bracken has been keeping interdiction away from our supply chain. If we develop a new market, we can fill the orders within a reasonable time span."

"Good. When Jamal and Butch check in, send them to me. I'll field them to Brooklyn." Vulcan pulls a Cuban cigar out of his pocket and heads outside to light it, muttering, "Brother sounds like a f*ckin MBA."

* * *

When she returns from the precinct, Kate surveys the transformation of the loft into puppy world. The furniture has been pushed out of the way to allow space for a vast play enclosure, lined with an absorbent surface that mimics grass. If she were smaller; she'd be happy to sleep in the cushy dog bed, and there are more toys than she remembers having as a child.

"Cool, isn't it?" Castle greets her, emerging from his office. "I can monitor the water supply from my phone, so Custos will never run dry."

"Custos?"

"Latin for guardian. Appropriate, don't you think? I haven't settled on food yet. I want to ask the trainer. Pet's Palace said sometimes puppies have sensitive tummies." Kate's stomach growls. "I guess puppies aren't the only ones. Alexis helped me throw together a casserole. It should be out of the oven in another ten minutes, but I got some of those grapes you like to nibble on. They're in the fridge."

"That's all right. I can wait for dinner to be ready. You really have been nesting, haven't you Castle?"

"Isn't that what people do when expecting an addition to the family? You should have seen the shopping spree I went on before Alexis was born. I earned concierge privileges at Baby Haven."

"I bet. When will Custos be arriving?"

"Day after tomorrow."

"So we'll have two nights without puppy whimpers?'

"I wouldn't have put it that way, but yes."

Then we really should try to enjoy them," Kate purrs, wrapping her arms around Rick's waist.

"Yes. Yes, we certainly should do that."


	30. Chapter 30

Shattered Lies

Chapter 30

Shirtless, Castle pats the bed next to him. Kate requires no invitation. Baby-stepping on the trail to nailing Bracken has tightened every muscle in her body and left her nerves screaming for the kind of relief only Rick's ever been able to provide. But she needs more than sex. Seeing Bracken chilled her soul and everything she learns about him just deepens the frost. She craves the warmth of Castle's body against hers, encircled by his love in the embrace of his arms.

Kate presses her cheek against Rick's bare chest. The scar has begun to fade, but she'll never forget how it got there. He put her life ahead of his own. He's still doing it; hour after hour, sorting through paperwork, using his resources to further her ends.

What is she giving back? Sex, of course - and vignettes for his books. But she still hasn't committed. She wants to hear the words come out of her mouth. There are only three of them. It shouldn't be that hard. But they are trapped in the web of her obsession. Until Bracken is behind bars - or dead - she can only communicate the depths of her feelings by her presence and her touch. For now, that will have to be enough.

Kate runs her palms over Rick's pecs. They have a hardness gained through the resistance challenges in his physical therapy, but his skin is soft and enticing, courtesy of a spicy body wash. She circles a useless male appurtenance with her tongue before tasting her way down to her prize.

Rick gasps at the pressure of her lips around him and buries his fingers in her hair. She licks and kisses up and down his length, rubbing the focus of her own arousal against the firmness of his thigh, her own need more urgent by the second.

He reaches for her, his fingers finding the center of the heat sizzling through them both. The flaming tsunami overtakes them, the force of it knocking the breath from their lungs.

They lay quietly as the last waves of the fiery deluge fade, before Rick cups Kate again. She is still steamy against his hand; the inferno banked but primed to flash back. As he rouses her again, he can feel the resurgence of his own need, but they can go more slowly this time, savoring every sensation.

Rick rolls Kate beneath him, propping himself above her to flood her lips with kisses before taking a tender mouthful of the sensitive skin of her neck and giving her glorious globes their due. She arches against him, wild in her desire. Her legs wrap themselves around his waist, pulling him within her.

Their dance in full-hold begins, each thrust and breath in perfect rhythm. Every movement builds to the next, the intensity growing until the explosive finale. Through the night they lay entangled, oblivious to anything except each other.

* * *

Rick is shocked awake by a cacophony coming from the kitchen. Slipping into his robe, he makes his way barefoot around the enclosure that will be Custos' new playground. "Mother, what are you doing?"

"Juicing, Darling."

An image of an unnaturally muscled bodybuilder flashes through Castle's mind. "What?"

"Extracting the natural energy from the vegetable bin. I'm auditioning for a new role next week, so I'm cleansing my body to cleanse my spirit."

"Uh huh. And what kind of role requires this purge?"

"The Virgin Queen."

"The virgin part is a stretch."

"Watch it, Buster! From that dopey grin on your face, I suspect that you and Katherine indulged in your own delights last night."

"A subject I have no intention of discussing with my mother." He points to a glass partially filled with green liquid. "What's in that? Never mind. I don't want to know. I'll start the coffee. I can use the caffeine and so can Kate."

Martha flashes him a knowing look. "I wouldn't doubt it."

* * *

"When is Bracken's yearbook supposed to be arriving?' Castle asks as he and Kate step off the elevator at the 12th.

The school promised they'd send it by early overnight, so it should be here before 10. Any news on when Bowdry's book is supposed to be out?"

"I haven't heard from Missy Jensen, but there was a "Coming soon," blurb in the Ledger this morning, teasing previously unrevealed scandals about a rising political figure. I expect they'll either announce the release today just in time to make the late news or catch the start of the cycle tomorrow. If Bracken saw the paper this morning, he's going to be working on some kind of defense."

Kate flicks back an errant strand of hair attempting to make its way into her mouth. "He'll probably categorically deny the story and claim that Krepkin is putting word's in a dead man's mouth to sell books."

"I'm sure he will," Castle agrees. "but there is another witness - Bowdry's niece. She has a story to tell, and Bracken kept her from getting a hearing."

"And it's been simmering inside her ever since. Bowdry doesn't mention her by name, but that won't stop the press for more than about thirty seconds. They'll be vying to see who can get an interview first, which is why we'll need to be there, and someone from victim's services as well. When you scratch the scab of a trauma, the blood starts to flow all over again."

Castle unconsciously presses his hand to his chest. "I know. The nightmares still come, especially when you're not there to stop them."

"I'm sorry Castle, I didn't realize."

Rick reaches for Kate's hand. "Hey, it's all right. You're with me. We're here for each other, right? In every sense of the phrase." He grins. " Like we were last night."

A smile ghosts Kate's lips. "I'm not about to forget that anytime soon."

The elevator doors open and a brown-uniformed courier emerges carrying a thick envelope. "I'm looking for Detective Kate Beckett."

Kate waves as Castle points at her. She scribbles her signature on the tablet the messenger is carrying, and tears open a large padded envelope. "This is it! Coleman University, class of 1982." She flips through the pictures. "Bracken is in here. He was voted most likely to succeed. No surprise there. And Doof is here too, but with no predictions. They were both in the ski club and both members of Lambda Lambda Lambda."

"Isn't that the fraternity that got the better of the jocks in Revenge of the Nerds?"

"I don't think they modeled that frat on this one, Castle. You can see where these guys were headed. A lot of them were in debate club and various political groups."

"Doof doesn't seem the type."

"No debate club, but he was the head of an animal rights organization. From the story here, it managed to get a local ordinance passed against dog fighting. That would have been before it was against federal law."

"Obviously Doof's sympathies didn't extend to the most obnoxious of primates."

"I guess not. It looks like he got an assist from Bracken pushing the law through, but I can't see Bracken helping anyone just to do a good deed."

"Perhaps, Castle suggests, "Bracken knew about Doof's darker proclivities and expected him to repay the favor. From all appearances, he did. I wonder what happened? Could be that when he realized he needed to kill a fed, he had to use a pooper scooper on his own mess. Maybe that's why he's sticking to raising puppies now."

"There's no statute of limitations on murder, Castle. If we can prove Doof killed Armen, no amount of canine cuteness will be able to save his ass - unless of course, he becomes a witness against Bracken."

"Kate, if Bracken decides to start tying up loose ends, he could go after Doof."

"You're right, Castle. I should put Doof under surveillance. He could be the bait in a trap he doesn't even know exists."

"Just make sure nothing happens to the puppies."


	31. Chapter 31

Shattered Lies

Chapter 31

Marie Constantine had long ago made a new life for herself. She'd married Mike and was happy with a part-time job and raising their two children in Connecticut. Uncle Cecil had warned her that he would be mentioning the incident in his book, but not identifying her. With the change of name and being in another state, she hadn't thought that anyone would be able to track her down - until Detective Beckett and her writer friend showed up at her door.

Kate Beckett makes it very clear that if she could find Marie, the press can too - and so can William Bracken. Telling the truth would not only pull the claws of the politician, it would make it useless for him to send anyone after Marie, as he had done to Cecil Bowdry.

Marie sinks into a chair bearing the marks of numerous passages of little hands and knees. "Mike, my husband, doesn't know. I tried to put it behind me. When Senator Bracken started showing up all over the news, and all the pundits started talking about what an upright breath of fresh air he is, it made me ill. I thought it would all go away - that the cameras would turn to someone else. They usually do. But then you showed up. This isn't going away; is it?"

Kate scoots her hassock close to Marie. "It won't. The story is out there now, and you can't put the genie back in the bottle."

"But you can make sure that your side is the one the press and the people hear and believe," Castle suggests gently. "Tell Detective Beckett everything, and I can help you put out the right words for the members of the fourth estate."

Marie looks up at him. "You'd do that for me?"

"I'd be doing it for the whole country. The last thing any of us needs is a monster like Bracken in the upper echelons of our government."

"Just start at the beginning," Kate urges. "Take your time and tell us what you remember about what happened to you and about what Bracken did."

"And you should tell your husband as soon as you can," Castle adds.

Marie twists strands of her hair in her fingers. "And what do I say to my kids?"

"The truth, that there are people in this world who do bad things." Castle advises. "That's always worked with my daughter. But between TV and social media, I'm sure they know that already."

* * *

"Do you think Marie is going to be safe?" Castle asks as Kate drives back to New York.

"I'll ask Captain Montgomery to contact the Connecticut locals to put a watch on the Constantines, but if anything happens to Marie, it will throw more suspicion on Bracken. He has to know that. Still, it won't be easy for her to put her life back together again."

"If anyone should know about that, it's you."

"You're a guy. How do you think Mike Constantine will react?"

"As a guy, I'd think he might be hurt that she didn't think enough of him to tell him sooner. But if he loves her, he'll be there for her. If he doesn't, he's not much of a husband."

Kate continues driving in silence, not sure what else to say.

* * *

Bracken crumples a page of the Ledger in his fist and hurls it at a wastebasket. He misses. Taking out Bowdry was a bad move. He had no idea the old hack had written a book, but he should have checked. Bowdry's claims from the grave are just the kind of accusations that make the press salivate. And if Bracken tries to impugn his honesty - he'll be speaking ill of the dead. At the moment, he can't see a way to spin this in his favor. But he will, he always does.

This bump in the road does increase his need to build his war chest. That means more money from Simmons' operation. Simmons had initially pushed back against Bracken's demand that he increase his sales, but apparently rethought his response, and is beginning to expand his operations. Normally Bracken would twist a few arms to keep the pressure off the new territory in Brooklyn, especially since the FBI has moved out. But Bowdry's revelations have thrown a wrench into that maneuver too.

* * *

The puppy is bigger than Castle remembered, or perhaps it just had a couple of days to grow. From the size of its paws and the research Rick's done, Custos may end up weighing almost as much as Castle does, but that will make him a great deterrent to robbers, kidnappers, and general invaders to Casa Castle. For now, he should be happy in his play area. And of course, Alexis will be taking him on walks, and the trainer will be starting his schooling.

Alexis spends most of the afternoon and evening in Custos' enclosure, and the dog seems happy enough, but as night approaches, he begins his laments. Castle activates the recording inside the giant stuffed dog that the perky sales clerk at Pet's Palace swore would keep the puppy content, but obviously, the clerk had never encountered Custos. Once out of a lap or arms, the little shepherd is inconsolable.

Castle considers employing the noise canceling earphones he uses for airplane trips, but neither he nor Kate has the heart to let the puppy cry. Around midnight they bring him into the bedroom where he immediately settles down to snooze between them. "You were right," Castle reflects wryly to Kate. "It's a good thing we got our fun in before our furry chaperone arrived. Alexis is on a school break right now, but after she goes back, it looks like I may need to hire a dog sitter for a while."

Kate groans and punches her pillow into shape. Castle, you can worry about that in the morning. Right now let's get some sleep.

* * *

Hal Lockwood usually doesn't pay much attention to the news. The talking heads don't know what they're talking about anyway. The reporters dutifully followed Bracken around, making the public believe every word he said. Morons! But now it looks like they've got their hooks into something sexy in the fallout from Hal's assignment to take out Bowdry. The obscure public official is on everyone's lips. Hal should have known the job was too easy.

Bracken might want to give him more jobs to try to clean up the mess, but he can't see that working out. It will attract more attention. Damn. Hal was just getting comfortable in New York. Now he'll have to relocate. But before he goes, there's really only one way to put a stop to investigations into Bracken that might eventually trace back to Hal.

Bracken has to be taken out of the picture - swiftly, cleanly, and before the cops can learn any more. That may take a little planning. According to what Hal saw on the net, Bracken headed upstate. Hal rubs his stubble-roughened jaw. The Senator maintains a rustic residence a couple of hours north of the city, to convince the locals that he's their guy. Hal snorts. Bracken's not anyone's guy but his own. And soon he'll be no one at all, just another body in the ground. Hal will go do reconnaissance, to spot the best position from which to eliminate his problem. Too bad. He hates working for free.

A/N I posted a new _The Rookie_ story. It's a one-shot that follows immediately from "Checklist." Nolan tries to help Ben and reveals more of his own history.


	32. Chapter 32

Shattered Lies

Chapter 32

Damn! After checking every inch around Bracken's country home, Lockwood can't find a sign of him. He knows the senator isn't in Washington, or back in the city. The press would have spotted him in either place. The worm has crawled into a hole, and Hal has no idea where.

He hates to give the cops that much credit, but they may know something he doesn't. That Detective Beckett is smart, and the writer who trails after her isn't dumb either. Now that the scandal is out, they'll be actively tracking Bracken as a person of interest if not an outright suspect in Bowdry's termination and they have access to resources Hal lacks.

That could work out. Hal can track the trackers from their center of operations. When they find Bracken, so will he.

* * *

Castle rises from his seat and lightly kisses Kate's cheek as she rubs her eyes. She was at her desk at the 12th all morning and came up with zero. Bracken has fallen off the radar, despite attempts by cooperating authorities upstate and the press to find him. She has nothing new on Bowdry's shooter and no more evidence against Doof. And she could have used at least a couple more hours of sleep. "Going somewhere, Castle?"

"Back to the loft. I've got three dog sitters coming to interview with Custos and me. And the trainer is coming later too. She has great credentials, and her recommendation for puppy food Custos would like was spot on, but I still want to check her out before I let her get her hands on my puppy."

"Castle, Custos is supposed to be a guard dog. Who's guarding whom?"

"I'm not guarding; I'm parenting. You couldn't have tracked down a criminal when you were a baby, and Papa and Mama Beckett kept the predators away until you were old enough to fend for yourself - and take care of your father too. I just want to make sure Custos has everything he needs to grow up to be the best he can be. Fortunately, that won't take nearly as long as the ongoing process with Alexis."

"But it looks like it might turn out to be almost as expensive."

Castle waves a dismissive hand. "Money well spent. In any case, I have to go. Call me if anything breaks?"

"Sure Castle, but don't hold your breath."

* * *

Castle is discouraged after meeting the first two candidates for a sitter. They're kind enough and enjoy playing with Custos, but their availability is spotty, and neither one of them has experience with the independence of his ancient breed - when the pup develops it.

Miniver Cracken is a stocky, well-muscled sitter who is of a breed all her own. She grew up on a farm upstate, taking care of a multitude of animals, including a Central Asian Shepherd that guarded the livestock - and humans - from intruders. She immediately knows how to scratch the puppy to elicit the grin Castle fell in love with and understands that the dog will be consuming a massive amount of food, something that will considerably enlarge the Castle household budget.

Castle is in the middle of jotting down the basic data he needs to take on a new employee when Miniver spots the Ledger lying on a nearby chair and points at the picture of Bracken on the front page. "I know that hack, a real jerk off."

Castle's fingers tighten on his pen. "How do you know him?"

"My Grandfather had a cabin he built in the woods. He called it his hunting lodge, but he never used a gun. Our family raises our own livestock for meat, but we always slaughter them humanely. They never suffer. Granddad used a camera. He captured the most amazing shots of animals just being animals. My parents have some of them framed in the buildings on our farm, and I have a few up in my apartment.

"The one thing Granddad wasn't good with was money. He fell behind on the taxes on the cabin. The sheriff put a lien on it but somehow never put out the paperwork to let Granddad know what was happening. When he finally found out, he tried to pay up, but the cabin had been sold out from under him."

"To Bracken?"

Miniver nods. "Indirectly. Some LLC he owns. I don't know why he wanted the place, but he got it. The road up there goes past our farm. Sometimes I'd see him going by or picking up supplies. My folks tell me they still catch sight of him every so often.

"He's a part of the reason why I came to the city. I've been studying agricultural economics. I'm finishing up the thesis for my masters. But I also wanted to understand the laws governing the acquisition of land. I don't want to see anyone else in my family's neck of the woods have to go through what Granddad went through. You work with the police, right? Are you going to be able to get Bracken?"

Castle lets out a slow breath. "I hope so. My, um, muse, Detective Beckett, is the lead on the murder of Councilman Bowdry. She wants to talk to Bracken, but she can't find him."

Miniver gives Castle a grin strangely reminiscent of the one on Custos' face. "I can help you with that. I talked to my folks last night. They said they saw Bracken heading up to Granddad's cabin. It's not easy to find, but I can draw you a map. And if you want to go with Detective Beckett to track him down, I'll be happy to watch over Custos as much as you need me to. I can bring a sleeping bag. The first few nights in a new place, a puppy like him needs a lot of company."

Castle rolls his eyes. "Tell me about it."

Miniver points to Custos' enclosure. "That's more than big enough to sleep two."

* * *

Half out of her chair behind her desk, Kate's mouth gapes as Rick tells her his story. "Castle, the dog sitter; are you kidding me?"

"Kate, I would never kid about something as important to you as finding Bracken. Mother will be home with Alexis tonight, and Miniver will be taking care of Custos. If we get started now, we should be able to get to the cabin Miniver described before dark. We can at least check to see if Bracken's actually there. And he won't have a chance to escape from the Beckett brand of in-depth questioning. If we find him, you can pull in some local backup can't you?"

"I don't know, Castle. From what you've told me about what the sheriff did for Bracken, he may have operatives there with badges. It might be better to have the boys follow us up and stay nearby in case we need them. Maybe there's a motel or something."

Castle pulls out his phone. "We may be able to do better than that. Miniver thinks her family will be willing to help any way they can to nail Bracken. Maybe they can put the boys up where they can keep a direct watch on the route in and out of the cabin. I can call her right now."

Kate pushes out of her seat, grabbing her purse from her drawer. "Do it, Castle."


	33. Chapter 33

Shattered Lies

Chapter 33

In the fading light before the stars appear Kate can make out a Mercedes SUV parked on a gravel-topped clear space in front of a rough-hewn log cabin. "That's Bracken's car - the one the Crackens said they saw coming up here."

The curtains are drawn, but you can see light leaking around the edges," Castle notes. "He's in there. But you should call in the boys before we go knocking on the door."

"Doing that right now," Kate responds, typing a brief text into her phone.

"So we just wait?" Castle wonders.

"You're the one who asked me to call for backup. Yes, we wait, Castle."

"Then we should talk about what happens next."

Kate's eyes flick away from the cabin to glance at him. "What do you mean what happens next? I question him."

"And then what? Unless he breaks down and admits to everything, you can't just slap the cuffs on him, can you?"

"No," Kate admits. "but if he lies, which he will, I'll have the basis for charging him with obstruction. And if he tries to run, that's evidence of guilt, and the boys will grab him."

"He's a lawyer, Kate. What if he does neither of those things and just, as the card says, remains silent?"

"Castle, now that we've found his hidey-hole he's not going to stay here. When he leaves, we follow him, see who he contacts. One way or another, he'll give himself away. He has to."

* * *

Hal Lockwood pulls his truck into the cover of the trees off the dirt road leading to the cabin where Beckett and Castle have stopped. This has to be it, where Bracken is holed up. He gazes around. The woods are a sniper's paradise. He can build himself a nest and wait for Bracken to emerge. If it's tonight, he can pick him off with a night scope. If the senator remains until daylight comes again, especially if the cops have retreated, that will work too.

Either way, Hal has patience. His father taught him to hunt at a very early age. The family was chronically short of money and bagging the legally allowable two deer made sure there would be meat on the table for most of a year. Rabbits and ducks could fill in the empty spaces. But Hal wasn't worried about packing the freezer. He enjoyed the stalking of his prey, and he reveled in the kill.

Later when the military took advantage of his skills and trained him for their purposes, he learned even more about finding just the right spot to lie in wait to take the perfect shot. And when the army tossed him for failing a psych eval, the mercenary forces had no scruples about hiring him. As far as Hal was concerned, he'd made a step up at three times the money with a lot fewer rules.

But a few years later he found even better, more comfortable work. His new targets rarely had the ability to shoot back. And the money - he'd never thought he'd see figures that large in his account. He's sorry he's going to end a promising haul from Bracken, but Hal has to cover his own ass. And when you're as good as he is, there's always another client.

* * *

"Your head's on a swivel. What's wrong?" Ryan inquires as he steers their unit up the dirt road to join Beckett and Castle."

Esposito keeps scanning the woods around them. "I can feel something, like when I was in Iraq, and my squad was about to walk into an ambush. Someone is watching- and the eyes aren't friendly."

"Seriously, Bro? I didn't think you bought the stuff about ESP. You make fun of Castle enough when he talks about sensing something."

"Yeah, well, this isn't something that happens at some phony séance. It's self- defense, and it's real. Soldiers that can feel the enemy, we're the ones who make it home. And I'm telling you, there's someone out there."

"Even if you're right, whoever it is wouldn't be after us. We just got here. And Beckett and Castle aren't moving until we're there to watch their backs."

"Just keep your eyes open, Ryan," Esposito bids his partner. "Something's going down."

Kate is ready to exit her unit, with Castle close behind her, the moment Ryan pulls up. She uses her Mag-Lite to pick her way up the three steps leading to the door of the cabin and raps loudly on the door. When it doesn't open, she knocks more insistently, keeping up the pounding until Bracken appears, peering through the crack between the door and the frame. "This is private property. What do you people want?"

Kate holds up her badge. "Senator, we need to have a talk."

Bracken shakes his head. "You're N.Y.P.D.; you have no jurisdiction here."

Kate fixes him in a hardened steel gaze. "As a former D.A., I would have thought you'd know the laws of the State of New York better than that. I can pursue a suspect in an active investigation, and Senator Bracken, you are very much a suspect in the murder of Councilman Cecil Bowdry. You can let us in, or we can stand here all night. Either way, you are going to talk to me."

Bracken pulls open the door. "This is ridiculous. I was hours away when Councilman Bowdry met his unfortunate demise."

"Which wouldn't have stopped you from hiring someone to do it. You had a motive. You and Bowdry have been political opponents for years. He would have made his voice heard."

"And unfortunately for you," Castle continues, "the voice emanating from the pages of his book is even louder. But then you had no idea he was writing one, did you? Krepkin was keeping it under wraps."

"I did not hire anyone to kill Bowdry," Bracken protests. "And you can't prove that I did."

Castle grins. "The words of a guilty man, spoken so many times I can't even use them anymore in my books. They've become a cliché. And here's another cliché, Senator. It's become one because it's true. Sooner or later the truth will out."

"The truth," Bracken retorts, "is that if the detective had enough evidence to arrest me, she'd be doing it. You're here to bait me, and I'm not falling for it. So get out of here before I call my lawyers to slap you with a suit for harassment."

"Fine, Senator," Kate returns, "but this isn't over. It's barely even started. Having Bowdry killed was a misstep, a bad one. Sooner or later you'll make another one, and I'll be there. And I will arrest you, Senator. You can count on it."

As Kate and Castle return to her car, Bracken steps outside his door to watch them go. As the crack of a rifle echoes through the woods, Ryan rushes toward Kate and Castle while Esposito struggles to locate its origin. Without night vision, he has no chance of homing in on the shooter, but on this windless night, he can see motion in the trees and ground cover where the animals are fleeing from the sound. "There! It came from over there!"

Kate is on one knee next to Bracken's body, feeling his neck for a pulse. "He's gone."

"Someone just made the world a better place," Castle remarks.

"Yeah," Kate agrees, "but we still need to catch whoever it was. She looks up at Ryan. You guys should block the road out of here until we can bring in the locals. We should call the FBI too. They'll want in on the assassination of a Senator."

Castle pulls his phone out of his pocket. "I'm reaching out to the Crackens too. They can look out for anyone making it as far as their farm. Whoever had enough reason to take Bracken out like that might know something about him that we don't."

Kate gazes into the depths of the woods hiding Bracken's executioner. "If he does, we'll find him and shake it loose."


	34. Chapter 34

Shattered Lies

Chapter 34

FBI, local police, state troopers, and the small N.Y.P.D. contingent form a perimeter around the nest Lockwood occupied to make the shot that ended Bracken's life. Ryan and Esposito have been sleeping in shifts, and Castle is beginning to feel the effects of his all-nighter.

If Kate is tired, Rick can barely detect it, except for almost imperceptible shadows beneath her eyes. She's more energized than he can ever remember seeing her - as if she's suddenly dropped the invisible weight she's been carrying for so many years. Normally, rejoicing in death would seem morbid, but Castle can understand why she wouldn't feel that way. He doesn't either. He just wishes Bracken's demise had been more painful; being left excruciatingly wounded to be slowly nibbled to death by creatures of the forest for example.

From the preliminary opinion of the local medical examiner, Bracken was killed by the same type of bullet as Cecil Bowdry. Ballistics will need to make the final determination, but it would seem that Bracken was turned on by one of his own. If true, it would be poetic justice. It would also make it more essential to nab the shooter. Castle has little doubt that the sniper will be willing to spill anything he knows about Bracken to make the best deal for himself.

So far, despite the presence of a sizable force, including Murphy who's shown up to lend support to Kate as well as in case organized crime is involved in some way, there's been little sign of the shooter except for the perch he constructed for himself in a tree. Unsurprisingly, Esposito located that.

The troopers tell Kate that tracker dogs are on the way, one of which was raised by the Crackens. So much traces back to them, and further to Castle. She bumps her hip against his. "This is all your fault, you know."

He turns to her in confusion. "OK. I'm a man, and you're a woman, so something has to be my fault. Mother and Alexis, not to mention Meredith drilled that into me. So for what am I to blame?"

"We couldn't just check out Armen's suspected shooter; you wanted a puppy. If you hadn't bought Custos, you wouldn't have hired Miniver Cracken. And if you hadn't done that, we wouldn't have found Bracken. From all appearances, the sniper followed us here, or Bracken wouldn't be dead."

"And that's a bad thing?" Castle asks. "I thought you wanted him dead."

"I wanted him brought to justice, but if I'd had to shoot him trying to escape, I wouldn't have minded."

Castle studies her face, detecting the spark of amusement lending an emerald glint to her eyes. "And how," he inquires, closing the space between them, "do you propose to punish me? I seem to recall already giving you my permission to administer a spanking."

Kate wraps her arms around his neck. "Oh, Castle. I have so much more in mind than that. But we have to nab the shooter first."

Castle's hears barking in the distance. "I think we're about to get a lot closer to that goal."

* * *

Leaning over his shackled hands in the 12th Precinct's interrogation room, Hal regards Detective Beckett. There's no doubt that she's beautiful, but she wouldn't be his choice in a bed partner. He prefers his women submissive; the kind who beg for mercy. Beckett is hardly that. Even with what appears to be her boyfriend next to her, she's in charge of the room - and the whole investigation. If Lockwood is going to salvage anything of what's left of his life, he's going to have to deal with her, dominant as she imagines herself to be.

"We booked you as John Doe, but I'll call you Mr. Lockwood for the moment," Kate begins. "That's the identity you seem to have had for the last couple of years. I know you were in the military. We hit a bureaucratic logjam when we checked your prints against their database. I'm guessing you did some work for them they'd rather not discuss. But my FBI colleague Special Agent Murphy is taking a chainsaw to that blockage. We'll know who you really are soon enough.

"My friend Mr. Castle here thinks you did the world a favor in ridding it of William Bracken. As a cop, I'm not allowed to see it that way. Murder is murder. But perhaps if you tell me everything you know about the late homicidal senator, starting with how he hired you to kill Cecil Bowdry, I might begin to share Mr. Castle's opinion and convince the D.A. to cut you a break. We might even be able to keep you away from inmates who fall madly in love with tall guys with blue eyes and firm bodies. Unless of course, you like that sort of thing."

When fear flashes in Lockwood's eyes, Kate can see that her taunt hit home. Hal bends further over the table, locking his gaze with hers. Bracken hired me to kill Bowdry. Something about a speech on the beach. Bowdry was an obstacle. Bracken told me he had plenty of work for a man who knew how to keep people out of his way."

Kate's fingernails make deep crescent moons in her palms. "So Bracken admitted he'd had other people killed?"

Lockwood snorts. "Admitted it? He was proud of it. He said he'd had an undercover fed taken out, and then some bitch lawyer and everyone connected with her investigation when she started looking into the fed's death."

When Kate blanches at the mention of Johanna, Castle puts a hand on her knee under the table, to steady her.

"There were more too," Lockwood goes on. "The way he talked about them it was if he enjoyed remembering what he did so he could relive it. He might even have a kill diary somewhere. I've met a couple of guys like him who did."

Kate raises her eyes to the mirror, in a signal to Ryan and Esposito who are in Observation. "How did Bracken pay you for your - work?"

"He transferred money into an account. There's a record of the transaction on my computer. You can trace it back."

"I'll do that, Lockwood, I assure you. Now I believe you have an appointment for a tête à tête with the FBI. They're always interested in men who murder federal officials. And our tech people will be happy to check out what's on your computer - all of it."

After Lockwood's been led away, Rick reaches for Kate's hand. "Do you really think that Bracken kept a kill diary?"

"I don't know Castle. As obsessed as Bracken was with covering his tracks, I can't imagine why he'd keep something that incriminating around."

"Hubris," Castle suggests, "thinking he can get away with anything. Isn't that what eventually brings men like him down? If he hadn't thought he could just take Bowdry out of the picture, he never would have ended up on the wrong end of Lockwood's rifle."

"Sometimes it happens that way," Kate acknowledges. "The boys will be searching Bracken's home in the city."

"If he enjoyed his diary much, he might have taken it to Granddad Cracken's cabin. We could go up and look."

"I can have the local cops do that," Kate points out.

"Yeah, but don't you think we owe the Cracken Farm a thank you visit? Maybe I can buy them a year's supply of fertilizer or something."

"All right, Castle. I'm sure we can figure something out."


	35. Chapter 35

Shattered Lies

Chapter 35

"It would be nice to have a place like this," Castle muses, as he and Kate search Bracken's hideaway. "No traffic, no cable TV, just hunkering down surrounded by nature."

"It didn't work out that well for Bracken," Kate points out.

"That was because he stole it out from under Granddad Cracken," Rick insists. "Karma came to bite him in the butt or at least shoot him in the head."

Kate looks up from the drawer she's rifling. "Are you planning on buying it?"

"Not for myself. If I do, it will be to give it back to the Cracken family. It should have been theirs in the first place. But it would be nice to have something more private than the house in the Hamptons - and smaller."

"My Dad has a cabin. He usually goes up there during December and January so he won't see anything that reminds him of my mother's murder."

"Do you think he'll need to do that this year?" Castle wonders. "I mean he - both of you - should have closure now, at least when we solidly establish that Bracken was responsible for her death. I take it that the Beckett legal minds aren't going to take the words of a vicious killer as irrefutable proof."

"I don't know Castle; they fit with everything else we've uncovered. And the case doesn't have to stand up in court unless they try Bracken from his grave."

"I believe a higher power than the New York State judiciary will be taking care of that if it hasn't already. But if there is a book, do you still want to find it?"

"Of course I do. Bob Armen would be in there - and who knows who else."

Castle takes down a framed photograph of Bracken regaling worshipful supporters and turns it over. "I thought this was sticking out too far from the wall, even with the rugged log construction." He detaches a thin notebook taped to the mat of the picture and flips through it before holding it up for Kate to see. "Seek, and ye shall find."

Kate grabs for the book. "Is my mother in there?"

Castle puts his arm around her shoulders, drawing her against his side. "Second page: JB January 9, 1999. That's the day Coonan killed her, isn't it? It has to be her."

Kate traces her finger over the entry. "It is. This address is the alley where she died. DC is Dick Coonan. And on the first page, BA by PD with the same address. That's when Custos' Daddy killed Bob Armen."

"I resent any implication of a blood relationship between a hitman and the newest member of my family, but do you think this will help you finish your mother's work with Pulgatti?"

"I think she'd like that. I'll need some legal help. Maybe Dad will be willing to give it a shot."

"It would be good for both of you. But what about all the others? Kate, there must be at least fifty sets of initials in here with different dates and places. And this goes back before the records were digitized. Won't it take a massive investigation to track down who all the victims were and reach out to their families?"

"It will, Castle. But this, along with Lockwood's testimony and whatever we can squeeze out of Doof, will establish Bracken as a serial killer - at least by proxy. That means the FBI will be involved. And if Bracken was getting his money through a drug syndicate, that's even more reason for the feds, including Murphy and the task force to get into it. We'll have the hands we need, for however long it takes to give peace to every family Bracken ravaged."

"So how about you, Kate? Do you have peace now?"

Kate presses her face into Rick's chest for a moment before pulling back to deposit the notebook in an evidence bag, noting the time and place before initialing it.

"So what's our next order of business?" Castle asks.

"I've just started the chain of custody in case we need Bracken's notebook to be admitted as evidence. We need to get back to the city and make sure this is under lock and key and that the chain is maintained."

"I take it that means no stopping for snacks on the way?"

"After that massive piece of apple pie, you scarfed down at the Cracken Farm?"

"Kate, they have their own orchard. It wouldn't have been polite not to pay the fruits of it the respect they deserve. But I wouldn't mind a hotdog or some nachos."

Kate smiles and pecks his lips "We can find a drive-thru."

* * *

Even after the able companionship of Miniver as well as a multitude of pets and tummy rubs from Alexis, Custos' tail won't stop wagging when Rick and Kate arrive back at the loft. Miniver grins at the enthusiastic puppy. "He's devoted to everyone occupying this territory. I took some towels from your bathroom while you were gone." She points to the huge stuffed dog in Custos' domain. "I used them to transfer your scent to that thing. It's much more of a comfort to him now. And mine is on everything. So is Alexis' and he's had more than a few sniffs of Ms. Rodgers too. I don't think he'll be nearly as distressed to sleep out here now. And you will want him to. He'll be growing very fast."

"It looks like he's put on weight just since we've been gone," Castle notes.

"He has. He'll be about 40 pounds by the time he's three months old, about 150 at a year and might make it to 180 at two. You're going to have to take him out a lot, but no one who's unwanted will be getting past him to get into your loft. Guarding the family will be everything to him."

Castle nods. "That's what I want. Kate and I have thanked your family for their help."

Miniver chuckles. "I heard about the fertilizer. Organic. Much appreciated."

"Good to know," Castle responds. "But I want to thank you too. You have no idea what you helped us do, for Kate, and for a lot of people you will never know."

Miniver brushes off her hands against her jeans. No thanks necessary. Having this job will help me accomplish everything I need to do to finish my masters and my other research. But if you two are in for the night, I'd like to get back for a while to what passes for an apartment in New York. I have some things to take care of there."

"Absolutely," Castle agrees. "You'll be back tomorrow?"

"Couldn't keep me away."

* * *

Kate slips into bed next to Castle, the shape of her body outlined beneath the thin cotton of her oversized N.Y.P.D. T-shirt. Castle traces the curve of her hip. "Heck of a day."

"Heck of a day," she agrees. "But it sounds like Miniver was right. Custos isn't crying."

"So whatever will we do with ourselves during this blessed quietude?"

"We could make up for lost time," Kate suggests.

Castle slides his hand to her thigh. "How much lost time?"

Kate's fingers explore the heat beneath his shorts. "I'd say about two years' worth."

His hands cupping the firm muscle below her back, Castle pulls Kate tight against the part of him she's teased to full attention. "Then, by all means, let's get started."


	36. Chapter 36

Shattered Lies

Chapter 36

With tears threatening to overflow the rims of his eyes, Jim Beckett stares at the paper Kate gave him. "This is a copy of what was in Bracken's notebook?"

Kate reaches for her father's hand. "It is. I made it myself."

"And you're sure Bracken wrote it?"

The FBI expert checked the handwriting against his papers. And his DNA was all over the original too. You put that together with what his hitman Lockwood told us, and there's no doubt. The notation about Percy Doof matches up with what was in Mom's file about Pulgatti, too."

"So both of the men responsible for your mother's murder are dead, and you want me to help you finish what she was trying to do in her last case?"

Kate squeezes Jim's fingers in her own. "That's right - if you think it won't…"

"Send me diving into the bottle again?'

Kate nods silently.

"It won't, Katie. I can't think of anything better I can do to honor her memory than to help you finish what your mother started. And if I have to go to a meeting every night to get that done, I'm more than willing." He grabs a laminated menu from the stand on the Formica topped table of their booth. "I wonder if they've added anything. I think this may be the first time in 12 years that I've really felt like eating."

"That's great, Dad." Kate pulls out the second plastic-coated bill of fare. "The mushroom burger looks new, and so do the chili cheese fries."

Jim swipes at his eyes with a paper napkin and smiles at his daughter. "I might order both."

* * *

Percy Doof regards Castle through the mesh of his holding cell. "I guess I always knew my history would catch up to me someday. I just never thought that it would be a dog that would give me away. Mine have all been precious to me, you know. Including your Custos."

"If it makes you feel any better, Laurie Sullivan, the trainer you recommended, and Custos' very able sitter, Miniver Cracken, are working together with the kennel club to make sure that all your puppies find the right owners. And Custos is happily eating me out of house and home."

"The large breeds will do that. Can you promise me that you'll continue to take good care of him?"

"I guarantee you that my daughter will have my neck if he gets anything less than the best of everything."

Doof slowly sinks to a metal bench. "Good, that's good."

* * *

"How's your father?" Castle asks when Kate returns to the 12th Precinct.

"Better than he's been in a long time." She consults the oversized watch on her wrist. "It looks like I made it back here just in time. Agent Murphy is supposed to be coming for a meet. He's setting up a team to explore all the notations in Bracken's book, and he wants to talk to me about what the task force will be getting into next. He said the two are related."

"Bracken was like an evil miasma that permeated everything."

"He was very much flesh and blood, Castle. We both saw that first hand. And he left a very human trail of destruction. Given your contributions to taking Bracken down, I don't believe Murphy will object to you sitting in on our discussions."

"Actually, Seamus and I got pretty well acquainted. We were hanging out together in the woods while the dogs were following Lockwood's stench. He thinks you are something extraordinary, an opinion with which I heartily concur."

Kate reaches around him to grab a handful of firm muscle. "After what happened in the shower this morning, I would hope so."

* * *

Kate spreads the contents of the folder Murphy hands her, on the conference table so that Castle can read them.

Murphy waves a hand at the reports. "I'll give you a few minutes to look those over, but the jist of what's there is, Bracken was using his powers as a senator to enable a drug-dealing operation. The matter has international reach because the supplies are coming in from out of the country, primarily from Afghanistan, but there are other sources involved where the synthetic opiates are concerned.

Castle points at a page. "If I read this right, the newly unchained citizens of Little Russia filed a complaint when the dealers began showing up in their neighborhood."

"That's correct, Rick," Murphy confirms. "N.Y.P.D.'s narcotics division picked up two of them, Jamal Jackson and Jesse (Butch) McDonald. They gave us the name and description of the operative that sent them to Brooklyn, a Curtis Green. We're looking for him now. Jackson and McDonald believe that Green knows who the head guy is, but from what we have so far, we suspect it's one Vulcan Simmons. We haven't found him either, but we believe we're closing in on the area in Washington Heights that is his home base. Our working theory is that Simmons was channeling money directly into Bracken's coffers. We have forensic accountants on that now. Detective Beckett, I want you to interface with Narcotics and continue to coordinate the activities of the N.Y.P.D. with those of my people."

"What about tracking down the families of Bracken's victims?" Kate demands.

"I assure you, Kate, we will do everything that we can to accomplish that, and you will be part of it."

* * *

Feeling like he hasn't been there for weeks, Castle settles into his chair in his office and puts his feet up on his desk. It's his favorite position for writing, but he's been doing that on the fly whenever he could - creating the details in his head and jotting them down on the notepad he keeps in his pocket. He's ready to balance his laptop across his thighs and properly commit his imaginings to the page, but he has something else he needs to do first.

Rick's phone is already sticking halfway out of his pocket, and his fingers take it the rest of the way before he scans through his contacts. Normally, he doesn't talk to real estate lawyer, Manny Lieberman, very often, but in the past few days, they've had several conversations. Castle's anxious for an update. "Manny, where are we on the Cracken cabin?"

A thick Bronx accent emanates from the speaker of Castle's cell. "Rick, usually you'd have to wait for an estate the size of Bracken's to go through probate before you could buy his property. But in this case, since law enforcement determined that the Cracken cabin was purchased with illegally obtained funds, it's been seized. If you want it, your connections may be more helpful than mine. I can send you an email with the right legal jargon to use to get your hands on it."

"I'd appreciate it, Manny. I have an idea about to whom to reach out. What about the other matter?"

"That's a lot more straightforward, Rick. I've identified several properties that could meet your requirements. As you requested, they're all off the beaten path, but I've located agents who can arrange showings for you. I'll send you the particulars and their contact information."

"Manny, what would I do without you?"

A nasal laugh answers Rick. "You'd have one less fat bill to pay. I'll send that along too."


	37. Chapter 37

Shattered Lies

Chapter 37

"You've been quiet lately," Castle notes as Kate lays beside him.

Kate stares at the play of light on the collection of shells they gathered in the Hamptons, and Rick mounted in a shadowbox on the wall. "I've been thinking about where my life is going. For the last twelve years, everything has been about my mother's murder; finding out who killed her and then finding the man behind him. But that's finished. Dad and I are almost done with the process of getting Pulgatti's conviction reversed based on Doof's confession, and I think that in Murphy's hands the FBI is capable of going after organized crime with or without me."

"What about tracking down the families of all of Bracken's victims and letting them know that the murderer of their loved ones isn't out there anymore?"

"That's the one thing that seems to matter now, but that list won't last forever – at least I hope not."

"So what would matter enough to replace the obsession that's driven you so hard?"

Kate pulls herself up against the tufted leather backboard of the bed. "That's just it. I don't know."

Rick pushes up beside her. "I think I know where you could figure it out. While I was getting a couple of Bob Weldon's political pals to intervene so I could get Granddad Cracken's cabin back to his family, and you were running around with Murphy's gang, I was looking for a cabin of my own. I think I found one that's outstanding. It's not too far from the city, but it's still pretty much in the middle of nowhere. I can get a cell phone signal but there's no cable – wire or fiber optic, and there are no gas or electric lines either. The place has its own little windmill and battery storage for electricity. There's a well too, and a wood fireplace for heat, but we'd hardly need that this time of year.

"The owners inherited it, but apparently they never want to be more than a couple of miles from a sushi bar or an ATM, so they don't use it, so they said I could spend a weekend there before making up my mind. Spending it with me, taking a walk in the woods, sitting by the water - oh I didn't mention the babbling brook - might help you sort things out. Alexis has her summer program at Hudson U, Mother's off doing summer stock, and Miniver can stay with Custos - or we could take him with us. I'm sure he'd enjoy the freedom to roam, and he's already very protective. We wouldn't need to fear any invasions by the local wildlife."

"Lions and tigers and bears?" Kate chants.

"I was thinking more like raccoons - but anything that rustles or goes bump in the night - except for the bumps we enjoy. So do you want to go?"

Kate leans her head on his shoulder. "Yeah, Castle, that would be nice."

* * *

Jackson's understanding of Pashto is pretty good, but he still has trouble with reading lips. The most he can gather from his surveillance of a heated conversation is that the poppy farmers are very upset about the shrinkage of their markets. Hunt has a fair idea of what happened - it actually is connected to Richard and Kate. When as a result of their investigation one of William Bracken's own wet boys turned on him, the protection the senator had been affording the drug trade out of Afghanistan disappeared, and other markets grew.

China is rapidly becoming the biggest supplier throughout most of the United States. That will leave Afghans, particularly the terrorist -aligned factions, scrambling for funds to increase their arsenals. Normally Jackson would regard the decrease in resources available to unfriendlies as a positive, but it could result in them taking their frustrations out on U.S. support troops, and he can't allow that. He'll identify the leaders of any such attacks and take them out before he returns for duty in the states.

* * *

Kate is surprised at just how comfortable the cabin is. It was 90 degrees in the shade in New York City, but between the tree cover and the insulation of the thick logs, the temperature inside can't be much more than seventy. At night she and Castle will need the quilt he insisted on bringing, along with his high thread count sheets.

The refrigerator is small, but more than able to hold supplies for the weekend. The stove works and the well water coming into the sink in the kitchen area is more palatable than what flows from city taps. With Custos on the small porch outside the front door, guarding against all dangers real and imagined, she's beginning to feel tension that she hadn't been aware was there, drain from her shoulders. Castle is right. Some time away from meetings and homicide calls is what she needs.

Castle stretches out on the bed they made together, patting the space beside him. "Kate, someone liked pillow-topped mattresses. This is almost as good as the one on our bed in the loft."

Kate couldn't miss his reference to "our bed." She's yet to give up her apartment or even fully voice her commitment to Castle, even if the Bracken barrier has fallen. Maybe, if she can use this time to get a handle on what she wants in her life now, the words will come. In the meantime, Rick's invitation is a temptation she can't resist. And she feels safe here. Safer than she's felt in twelve years.

As he extends his arms to her, she straddles him, heat surging through her veins. She pulls off her tank top and their lips meet. Rick palms the firm globes she reveals. "No bra?"

"I don't really need one, except to keep the gawkers at bay. Not the way I work out."

Rick samples one pink tip. "Shall we enjoy a workout together?"

"What kind of a workout did you have in mind?"

Rick rolls her beneath him. "I regard pushups as a pretty good start."

Kate pulls at his belt. "Don't you think you should do that in workout clothes?'

Rick pushes the hair off Kate's face. "And what kind of clothes would those be?"

"The same kind the original Olympians wore. What they were given at birth."

Tossed garments begin to land on the rag rug covering the plank floor. "I've always admired the wisdom of the ancient Greeks. They gave us geometry, you know. It's always good to understand how things fit together."

Kate strokes him to fullness. "I think we've worked that out pretty well."

His fingers seek to return the favor at her most needy spot. "Yes, but geometry is about proof. We should always test our theories in practice."

"Yes we should," Kate agrees, guiding him toward her. She's more ready than she knew, to take him, all of him. Two pieces of the same whole, they move in perfect sync. Their efforts in making the bed go for naught as the coverings are kicked away. Kate's legs rise, beckoning him deeper, even as she intimately grasps him more tightly. They are like flint on steel, striking sparks with each pass until the tinder is ablaze and the fire can take hold. She buries her fingers in his hair; her lips firmly pressed to his as their tongues parry and thrust. Kate can feel the coiling of her internal spring, poised for explosive release. The shockwave courses through her, propelling her words with its final crest. "Rick, I love you."


	38. Chapter 38

Shattered Lies

Chapter 38

Rick pulls Kate close as they lay enrobed in the aftermath of lovemaking, her confession echoing in his brain. "Did you mean that or was it just in the heat of - the heat?"

Kate presses herself into his side. "I meant it, but I'm not sure where it will lead."

Rick tucks her head beneath his chin. "When two people love each other and are as good together as we are the next step is usually getting married. Is that what you want?"

"Rick, are you proposing?"

"I guess I am. I can get down on one knee if you want me too, but you'll have to wait until we get back to the city for a ring - that is if you accept."

"Rick, I do love you, but you know I'm still trying to work out what I want to do with my life now. I may not stay the detective you follow around at the precinct and to murder scenes."

"Kate, I don't care if you're a mall cop - and you'd look adorable on a Segway – or decide to join the Salvation Army. I love Kate Beckett, all of her, not just the badge. Whatever you decide to do, I'll be your most enthusiastic cheerleader."

Kate pushes herself up to frame his face in her hands. "Well, in that case, Richard Castle, I will marry you - but I want to pick out the ring."

Rick pulls her down for another kiss. "I wouldn't have expected anything else."

* * *

The path of the stream provides enough of an opening in the leafy canopy to allow the sunlight to stream through, reflecting off the water and warming the banks. Castle sits cross-legged against a tree with Kate's head in his lap and Custos lying nearby, eyes alert. "I think we must have walked at least a good two miles. Any ordering of the maelstrom in your mind?"

Kate twists a blade of grass in her fingers. "Maybe. Castle, since my mother's murder, I've always been searching for a way to bring peace, even more than justice, to others when I couldn't find it myself. Solving homicides accomplished that – sometimes. But there are so many grieving daughters, sons, husbands, wives, best friends, out there who have never received answers because the trail turned cold and cases became bankers boxes in the basement. Those people have been suffering for years, sometimes almost a lifetime. I found my answers, and I want to bring the same to them."

Rick smooths her hair. "You're doing that with the families of the victims in Bracken's book."

"But there are so many more."

"You could ask Montgomery to assign you to cold cases."

"That would just cover New York City - and not even all of the city. There are people stuck, unable to move on, like I was, throughout the country, even all over the world. They need help."

"That's a big job for one sleuth, even one as talented as you. Reaching out that far would take a whole organization, possibly with an international network. There may be agencies you could join with those kinds of connections. We can check it out." Castle stares down at her face. "But that's not what you want, is it? Kate Beckett always needs to be out front, kicking in doors and taking down names. You want to be in charge."

Kate sits up, turning to Rick. "It sounds like a fantasy; something in an Angela Jolie movie, doesn't it? But instead of raiding tombs, I'd be digging up old evidence."

"It doesn't have to be a fantasy, Kate. It would be a service with a mission many people could understand and support, with me as your first patron. But you might have to start small and branch out as you build your operation and reputation. That could take time."

"As long as I'm accomplishing something meaningful while it does, I don't care. I waited twelve years to find Bracken."

"All right then, when we get back to the city, we'll find people who'll know how to get the ball rolling. But first things first. You need your ring."

Kate rubs her thumb over the bare spot on her ring finger. "Yes – I do."

* * *

Kate wants no part of the diamond district. She doesn't need some flashy rock that a starlet would display on engagement, only to pawn two years later when the excitement fades, and the jewelry is all that remains. Her ring should be a symbol of the love as well as the friendship and partnership she and Rick share. She's not sure exactly what the design should be, but she'll know it when she sees it. She leads the way to Commune; a place tucked away in an old building on Canal Street, where artists and craftspeople display and sell their unique creations. In the past, she's bought several gifts there for friends; never anything hugely expensive, but personal and expressive.

The artisan Kate is searching for is in a back corner, her wares laid out on a table covered in blue cotton, with a hand-lettered sign declaring "Callie's Creations." Hand in hand with Castle, Kate studies the delicately fashioned rings. In those with gems, the stones are mostly semi-precious, with chips of more expensive jewels here and there. Her eyes catch on one band wrought with two fine strands of gold interwoven with amethysts and tiny bits of ruby and emerald. That's it. That's us. Two streams of thought wrapped intertwined, with bright sparks of love."

Castle gazes at her choice. "You're right. You were meant to find it. It's a sign that everything was leading to the is point; that we are supposed to be together." He feathers a kiss on her lips before turning his eyes to Callie. "How much?"

When she names a figure, Castle resists his usual urge to haggle and pulls out his wallet. He won't be going another step until the sign of his and Kate's commitments to each other are on her finger for the world to see.

* * *

"What are you going to tell Montgomery and Murphy?" Castle asks as he and Kate ride the elevator to the bullpen, Monday morning.

"Nothing yet. I'm going to finish out my work with Bracken's list and whatever else comes up while I start putting things together for Out of the Dark."

"**We** start putting things together," Castle corrects. "But a good name, by the way. I've already sent off a few emails, to my lawyer and some of my other contacts who've started businesses or non-profits from the ground up. We should be hearing something by the end of the day."

Ryan strides up as the doors to the lift open. "Beckett, Castle, good you're here. We just got a fresh one - down on Canal Street. A jewelry-maker named Callie Lowell was packing up her stuff from selling over the weekend, but she never made it out of the building. Lanie is already on her way."

Fingering her ring, Kate stares up at Castle, her heart twisting in her chest. Of all the deaths she's investigated, this one tears at her like a knife to the gut. Her eyes harden in determination. "Let's go."


	39. Chapter 39

Shattered Lies

Chapter 39

Lanie looks up from Callie Lowell's body as Kate approaches. "Time of death was between seven and nine last night."

Kate looks at Rick. "That was just a few hours after we saw her."

"You knew her?" Lanie asks before catching sight of Kate's left hand. "What are you wearing on your ring finger, girl? Are you two engaged?"

"Wait? Beckett, really?" Ryan pipes up.

"Yeah, Beckett," Esposito adds, "what's goin' on?"

"Yes," Kate confesses, taking a breath and inclining her head toward Rick, "Castle and I are engaged, and our victim made the ring. I was going to tell you all before Ryan dropped the case on me. So can we get on with it? Lanie, what's the COD?"

"She was strangled. It looks like someone used a fine wire."

"Like one might use to make jewelry?" Castle inquires.

Lanie shrugs. "Maybe. I'll have to check her neck for residue and compare the mark to exemplars to be sure."

"Doesn't look like theft was the motive," Esposito remarks, waving at packed carryalls sitting on Callie's display table. "Her stuff is still here."

"There could be something missing," Beckett notes. "She might have an inventory somewhere. We'll need to check the bags and wherever she lives if it's not here."

"She might have a workshop as well," Castle interjects, "or share a workspace with other craftspeople."

"That's possible," Kate acknowledges. "But step one, as soon as CSU is finished, we go through everything she has here, including her phone if it's on her, and see what records we can find."

Castle nudges Kate into a corner, away from the other detectives and Lanie. "Are you all right? You've got your 'All Business Beckett' persona going full blast. That's usually your shield when you're upset."

"Castle, sometimes you notice a little too much."

"The eyes of a crime novelist or your husband-to-be, take your choice. Either way, I'm going to worry about you."

"It just seems like a bad sign, that's all. We find the perfect ring and the next thing we know, the person who made it turns up dead."

"Maybe it is a sign," Castle proposes, "that we're the ones who are meant to uncover the killer's motive and solve Callie's murder."

Kate rakes back her hair and nods slowly. "I hope you're right, Babe."

* * *

Castle scans through Callie's sales records. "It looks like everything is accounted for. She made a note about selling your ring and drew a little happy face next to it. She also sold a few pair of earrings, not very expensive ones."

Ryan strides up carrying a sheaf of paper. "I've been going over Callie's financials. She wasn't too deep in a hole, but she wasn't making that much either. Castle may have been right about a workshop. She was paying rent to one of those warehouses that's been converted into a bunch of small spaces."

"We need to go see it." Kate decides.

* * *

"This is no workshop, at least not for making jewelry," Castle declares, as soon as a manager unlocks the door to a small office. "Not much here but a desk and a filing cabinet - a locked filing cabinet. Do you have your tools on you?"

Kate holds up a tiny leather case. "Better. Lanie found this attached to the inside of one of Callie's boots. The key inside would never fit a door lock, but it's just the right size for a file cabinet."

"And booyah!" Castle exclaims as a drawer springs open.

"Here," Kate says handing him a pile of files, "go into your speed reading act."

Castle rapidly flips through pages. "Kate, you and Callie have something in common, besides your taste in jewelry. These files are all about a cold case. Callie's parents were killed several years ago. Apparently, they were into jewelry making too. The N.Y.P.D. came to a standstill in their investigation, but Callie has been trying to work on it ever since. She was convinced that it had something to do with their business, but from what I've seen so far, she couldn't figure out what."

Kate rubs her hand over her face. "Castle let's go through every line. If she got too close, maybe whoever killed her parents killed her too."

* * *

Castle rotates his shoulders and stretches his arms above his head. "The files I'm looking at now are all about gems - the market prices, what it costs to put them in jewelry, the prices the pieces need to sell for to turn a profit. Callie documented transaction after transaction that made no sense if stones were acquired legitimately."

Kate uses her forearm to wipe sweat from her brow. "The files I have are records of her parents' business. They were doing well for years, and then suddenly things started to slide big time. They must have been close to bankruptcy by the time they were killed."

"Which would make perfect sense if someone was putting illegally obtained stones into jewelry and undercutting them. Kate, if they found out who it was, it might have cost them their lives."

"You could be right Castle, and it might have cost Callie hers. If we're going to solve this case, we may have to finish what the Lowells started. I didn't think I'd be looking at another cold case so soon."

Castle wraps his arms around her from behind, and kisses the top of her head. "Especially one with so many echoes of your mother's murder. Are you going to be able to handle this?"

Kate curls her fingers around his hands. "If I can't, there'd be no point in trying to start 'Out of the Dark.' We'll solve Callie's murder, and her parents', whatever it takes."

"Whatever it takes," Castle repeats.

* * *

Jackson sinks into the net that passes for a seat in a military transport. The terrorist nest is cleaned out, and the plane is the fastest way back to the states. He's been away too long. He knew decades ago when he accepted his job that it would be like this. Links to family were a non-starter.

The only reason he can have a relationship with Rita is that she understands the score. They care for each other and the sex is good, but she knows that he could disappear from the earth at any time and she might never know how or why. Jackson will pop in on her when he gets to New York, but he needs to check on Richard first. One of the phones he got off a dead Afghan picked up a feed from social media, and posts of rumors of the engagement of Richard Castle and Katherine Beckett.

Having his son follow the detective around is dangerous enough, but if he marries her - well Jackson will just have to make sure no more boogie men are lurking in the shadows. He wants to get a look at Alexis too. It seems like every time he manages to catch sight of his granddaughter she's grown an inch. And he's curious about Martha also. Theater notices being what they are, she's rarely been challenging to keep track of, but as yet the diva has barely made it to Facebook, so information on anything other than names and dates of performances and the occasional picture of her with some assumed lover have been hard to come by. Once he checks on what he regards as his family, nebulous as the ties may be, he can have an interlude with Rita.

A/N I have a new The Rookie story called "In Plain Sight." It follows directly from Freefall. Nolan obsesses over Jessica and Henry comes to L.A.


	40. Chapter 40

Shattered Lies

Chapter 40

"We ought to go see Powell," Castle declares in the middle of tearing lettuce for a hastily thrown together dinner salad.

"That old jewel thief? Castle, from what Martha told me, the last time you went to see him he socked you in the jaw. And I was there when he and Martha auctioned you off at the benefit. You're off the block now, Buddy."

"And very grateful I am. The woman who bought me that night kept trying to get her hands down my pants all through our date."

"I don't think you would have minded that at the time."

"Oh come on, Kate. I was already head over heels for you. Why do you think I bought you a Cinderella dress? I couldn't wait to see you in it. But anyway, Powell was helpful on that case. He sent us in the right direction, even if he did have his fun at my expense. He's supposed to be retired, but he can't help keeping up with the business. And he was active when Callie's parents were murdered. If anything was going on then, in the market for gems, he would know about it. We should go after we eat. He still keeps ghost's hours, but he should be awake by the time we get there.

* * *

Powell strokes the yet-unshaved white stubble on his jawline. "The Lowells, yes I remember them, Raffi and Clea. They made some nice pieces - not quite in the range my clients were seeking, but exquisite craftsmanship. It is a shame what happened to them. As I recall they were training their daughter, Callie, in the art."

Kate holds out her left hand. "She made this."

Powell's gaze shifts from Kate to Castle, and back again. "Are congratulations in order?"

"To us but not to Callie," Castle replies. "She's dead, murdered."

Powell sighs, shaking his head. "That is unfortunate. Is that why you are seeking my assistance?"

"We suspect that whoever killed her parents, killed Callie," Kate responds, "and we could use your help. Callie believed that someone was using illicitly obtained gems to make jewelry that competed with what her parents turned out and that she died because she was trying to prove it."

Powell runs his hand over his only slightly thinning white mane. "There was a lot of talk at the time of a gang that was targeting pieces with large gems that could be recut and reset so that they would no longer be traceable. It was a travesty, as far as I was concerned. Lovingly created works of such beauty should never be destroyed just to turn a buck. I was always careful to choose clients who would keep the jeweler's art intact."

"So, are you saying that the stones from stolen jewelry could be cut up and used to make new items that could be sold cheaply enough to undersell artists like the Lowells?" Castle queries.

"Mere speculation on my part, my boy," Powell assures him. "I would never sully myself by going near such an operation."

"It is a theory that fits all the facts," Castle persists.

"But if it's true, how would we track the thieves down?" Kate demands.

"If they are still in business, as Callie's sad passing would seem to indicate, the most straightforward way would be to seek out a source of discounted high-end jewelry," Powell suggests. "A young couple in love would be the natural purchasers. Perhaps, Rick, your fiancée could use a necklace? As I recall, Kate looked stunning in Martha's rubies."

"Yes," Castle agrees, "she certainly stunned me."

* * *

Jerrold's Gem Galleria is furnished with dark wood chairs and thick carpeting, lending an air of opulence. Kate and Rick are met at the door by a man in a well-tailored vested suit, Italian shoes and who clearly avails himself of the services of a hair stylist rather than a barber. "I'm Harlan Mayfield. What can I show you today?"

Castle takes Kate's left hand and holds it up for the salesman to see. "Well, Harlan, my bride to be wanted this little trinket for our engagement for sentimental reasons, but I think she deserves something more impressive to go with it." He stares appreciatively into Kate's face. "Green would bring out the color of her eyes."

"Not that she needs the enhancement, but they would indeed," Harlan agrees. "Come this way. I believe that we may have just what you're looking for." Harlan leads the way to a locked heavy glass case with necklaces displayed on midnight black velvet. He draws a key from the watch pocket of his vest, and retrieves a necklace made of twisted strands of gold and hung with emeralds.

Castle rubs his hands together. "Just what I had in mind!"

"Would the lady like to try it on?" Harlan offers.

"That would be amazeballs," Kate responds in the ditziest voice she can summon.

Harlan hands the glimmering jewelry to Castle to clasp around Kate's neck. The tip of a triangle of emeralds just brushes her cleavage.

"Perfect!" Castle exclaims, pulling out his titanium card. "We'll take it!" He presses his lips to Kate's temple. "You should wear it home."

"Sure, Baby," Kate responds keeping up her persona.

"Castle, we're not going to keep this, are we?" Kate asks fingering the shiny stones as she slides into the passenger seat of his car.

"Why not," Castle asks, "unless you end up needing it for evidence? Harlan knows his merchandise. It looks incredible on you. I was right; emeralds do bring out your eyes - and complement other parts of you."

"We should show it to Powell right away," Kate decides. "He may be able to figure out where the stones came from."

"Very well, to the master's den we go." He glances at the clock on the dash. "But it's only four o'clock. If we show up at what's this early for him, we'd better stop and get a bottle of Chateauneuf du Pape Beaucastel 1989 to take along as a peace offering."

* * *

Powell takes a sip from a crystal goblet. "Rick, as always, your taste in wine is exemplary. And your taste in a gift for Kate is excellent as well, even if the stones were stolen."

"How can you tell?" Castle asks.

"Those emeralds are Columbian in a unique range of color and fire. They have been recut, but I recognize the collection from a piece that was appropriated not long ago from Archambault's wife."

"Archambault, the French president?" Kate asks.

"The same," Powell confirms. "The Archambaults were on a junket to New York. Giselle is a fan of Broadway musicals. The necklace was taken from her as they were leaving the theater by the back door."

Consternation grooves Kate's forehead. "I never heard about it."

"No, you wouldn't have," Powell acknowledges. "Apparently the French were embarrassed that their security was lax enough for the theft to take place. They kept it quiet and Giselle has been wearing a copy ever since. But the story spread through our community. I believe what once adorned France's first lady is now even more attractive on you, Kate, but if you wish, I can recommend a gemologist who can confirm that for you."

"Would that mean we would have to give the necklace back to the Archambaults?" Castle wonders.

Powell raises his glass. "That is a question. It is difficult to return something to an owner who won't admit that it was lost, isn't it?"

Kate's eyes narrow. "If these emeralds belong to the first lady of France, they'll have to be restored to her."

Castle shrugs. "That's what I get for falling in love with a cop."


	41. Chapter 41

Shattered Lies

Chapter 41

With a hand at the stiffness in the small of his back, chief gemologist Winston Rickman Ph.D. straightens up from his microscope and winks. "Whoever your friend is was right. These are Columbian emeralds that appear to have formerly resided in Madame Archambault's necklace before they were recut. May I ask what you paid for the detective's necklace?" Rickman's eyebrows rise when Castle names the figure. "Originally the stones alone would have sold for at least three times that much. If these gems could not be assumed to be stolen property, I'd say you got a deal."

"We believe that was the point, Dr. Rickman," Kate replies. "To sell high-end jewelry at bargain basement prices yet still make a killing - unfortunately, quite literally."

Rickman picks up the reading glasses he'd doffed before using his scope. "Well then, Detective, I wish you luck in apprehending whoever is responsible. Emeralds are the best investment gems. It is a shame to see the market disrespected."

"Disrespected," Castle repeats as he and Beckett return to her unit, parked in the visitor's lot at Hudson University Annex. "I love the way Rickman put that. The man is obviously acquainted with Powell. He must figure that our favorite master thief gives the multifaceted loves of his life the proper obeisance."

"We all have strange attractions," Kate notes. "I am marrying you."

"Considering that you are comparing me to stones that have been valued throughout the ages, I'll take that as a compliment," Castle responds. "So now that we've found an outlet that thieves are using to cash in on their booty, what's our next step?"

"We have proof that Jerrold's Gem Galleria is dealing in stolen merchandise. That gives us enough cause to request their financials and dig into every aspect of their business. A connection to the thieves will have to pop up somewhere, and we can trace it to the murderer of Callie and her parents."

Castle flexes his fingers. "Sounds like I'm in for more papercuts."

"I'll kiss them and make them better," Kate promises.

Castle grins. "Then let me at those files."

* * *

Jackson doesn't dare get too close to the Castle loft. He's familiar with Central Asian Shepherds. The bad guys have used them to guard some of his targets. Rather than shooting the animals with bullets, he used anesthetic darts, but it was not easy. They'd pick up his scent if he didn't keep the maximum distance at which his weapon would be accurate. He's not about to drug his son's dog except in a case of a severe threat, and right now there doesn't appear to be any threat at all.

Hunt has other ways to keep tabs on his family. He knows where Alexis goes to school and some of her favorite spots to congregate with her friends, including an ice cream parlor that serves up her favorite ice cream, Rocky Road. Richard can usually be spotted somewhere around the 12th Precinct, often at the hamburger joint Remy's. The place is a dream for fattening cardiologist's bank accounts, but it does have the best pickles outside of a kosher deli. Jackson has been able to take a seat where his son, and from her ring, his fiancée, have shared meals, noting Richard's weakness for cheeseburgers and Kate's for strawberry shakes. Jackson has been in the back row of the balcony for several of Martha's performances over the years, and also caught her appearance in a soap opera with an impossible storyline but where she shone nevertheless.

Rita hasn't been shy about warning Jackson not to get too involved. He's careful, never getting close enough to make physical or even eye contact except for the time in the library when Richard was only ten. He'd never expected to have a family, but since he does, he has no intention of letting anything happen to them. Richard is still young enough that marrying Kate Beckett may lead to more grandchildren for Hunt to watch over. That idea is equally disturbing and appealing.

From what Jackson has been able to gather so far, Richard and Kate are pursuing a homicide case that is entangled with a group of jewelry thieves. What Jackson doesn't believe they realize is that the syndicate is international in scope.

The CIA doesn't care about criminal enterprises as long as they don't impact national security. Catching crooks is the FBI's domain. But Jackson has run up against tentacles of this particular organization now and then when it was involved with funding terrorist operations. They are very efficient at obtaining and selling their goods, but blunt in their methods of covering their tracks.

Hunt does not doubt that Kate and Richard will be able to dig up at least a branch of the business. That could be dangerous or even fatal. Despite what Rita says, he'll keep a careful eye on the situation. And even if it makes things more complicated for him, Hunt applauds Richard's choice in a canine guardian. The dog will complicate the lives of would-be invaders even more.

* * *

Castle rubs his knuckles against his eyes. "It looks like a lot of the finer gems, including emeralds, that Jerrold's uses to craft their pieces, come from a source referred to as MGS. I checked. The address of MGS Headquarters is one of those buildings in Delaware that is a mail drop for hundreds of companies. Payment is sent to a numbered account in Cypress, but the bank there is associated with Metro Corp. in downtown Manhattan."

Kate eyes the printout that Castle hands her. "Textbook money-laundering. The funds are sent overseas, cleaned up, then rerouted back to the U.S. We need to locate MGS's operations in New York. Any idea what MGS might stand for?"

"Murderous gem sellers? Kate if MGS has people in the city committing homicides, they must have some way to pay them, most likely through Metro Corp. Can you access the records?"

"I probably can't, but Murphy can. Since Callie's murder has suddenly taken on interstate and international components, that puts it right into the purview of the FBI and possibly even the task force, since an organization is involved."

"Which will allow you to avail yourself of the services of the bespectacled boys with the ink-stained fingers and heads for figures."

Kate rolls her eyes and punches his arm. Not all of them wear glasses, and some of them are women, but yes, I can use the forensic accountants again. And since there may be tax evasion involved, the IRS could be interested as well."

"This investigation is beginning to sound like alphabet soup." Rick presses his hand above his belt. "Which reminds me. I'm starving. You must be too. You grabbed one piece of turkey bacon and didn't eat your eggs at breakfast this morning. Even the indomitable Kate Beckett needs sustenance to make her eyes sparkle and her hair shine."

"That sounds like a variation of a line you would have used on Alexis."

"It is - when she was six - but it worked. She finished her oatmeal and drank all her milk. It was chocolate milk, but that was a small concession. So, is it going to work on a more sophisticated audience?"

"Sure Castle, but no oatmeal, and tea instead of milk. I'm in the mood for Chinese, especially the spareribs."

"Ah, you want to get your teeth into something. Good to know. Silver Moon or Dragon Garden?"

" After what we've found, I'm definitely in the mood to face a dragon."


	42. Chapter 42

Shattered Lies

Chapter 42

Manchester Gregor Salmon stares at a document emailed by the manager at Jerrold's Gem Galleria. "What the hell!" He presses the icon on his phone for the direct number of his organization's chief counsel.

Bertrand Manning knows he has a problem even before he picks up the phone. Salmon never calls before his midmorning coffee unless he is thoroughly upset. And when Salmon is upset, the syndicate is swimming upstream. "What can I do for you, Chester?"

"Jerrold's, one of our best New York outlets just received a subpoena for all of its records; sales, importation, banking - everything."

Manning presses his palm to his elongating forehead. "Who issued it?"

"Damn! I don't know. Wait a minute." Salmon rereads his email. "The U.S. Attorney from the Southern District of New York."

Air hisses through Manning's teeth as he clamps his jaw. "That's bad. The Southern District handles a lot of banking. They have jurisdiction over Metro Corp. The records from Jerrold's could lead them to a hub of our operations."

"So what do we do?" Salmon demands.

Manning rubs a temple that is rapidly beginning to throb. "We can file a motion to quash, but that will only slow things down. If Southern District is going after Jerrold's, they have something solid. The best thing to do is shift as much of our operations as we can out of reach; shut down transactions between Cypress and Metro Corp. and have all our people lie low. Our outlets should be instructed not to sell any more merchandise received from us and dump their inventories in a hole where the investigators can't find them."

"We'll lose a fortune!" Salmon explodes. "Can't we go at this more directly; find out who's spearheading the investigation and take them out of the picture?"

"Again, that may slow things down temporarily," Manning advises, "but in the end, it will just open up more avenues for inquiry. It would be better to cut our losses and go quiet until the whole thing blows over."

Salmon's fingers redden as they tighten around the edge of his phone. "I'm not sure we can do that."

* * *

"You look perky this morning for someone whose investigatory path has been blocked by legal maneuvering," Castle comments as Kate grabs an apple out of the fruit bowl on the counter.

"I talked to my dad while you were getting the coffee started. He says there's no way the judge will go along with the Manning motion, but it may take a day or two to get a ruling. I decided to take some personal time. Dad tracked down the family of another one of Bracken's victims. They live in Iowa now, but I'm going to Skype with them this morning. Other than that, I thought we could spend some time together away from the precinct and dead bodies. Alexis has her summer program all day."

"And Mother has her summer stock," Castle adds. "We can be all by ourselves with Custos standing guard - unless you want to go somewhere. We could get one of those suites at the Four Seasons with a supersized hot tub - suitable for all manner of activities."

Kate cups the pertinent part of his anatomy. "I think we can find enough to do right here."

Castle pulls her tight against the target of her tease. "I do believe that we can."

* * *

Jackson studies the man loitering down the block from Richard's building. As far as he can tell, the lurker is not concealing a gun, but there are many ways to kill a human being, none of which require anything more than one's hands or even fingertips. And some weapons can easily be hidden in a pocket.

There is nothing particularly noteworthy about the object of Jackson's attention, other than he has no business to be where he is. He smokes a cigarette now and then, to appear as if he has a reason to be out on the sidewalk, but neither his fingers nor teeth are stained. He rarely takes a puff and doesn't have the look of a nicotine addict. He's neither tall nor short, fat or thin, handsome nor unattractive- just the kind of guy who fades into the background until he makes his move.

Jackson knows that Richard and Kate are inside the loft. Chances are that they'll be safe until they emerge. If they have fun and games for the newly engaged planned, that could be a while. Alexis walked the dog before she left that morning, but he'll need another one eventually. Richard and possibly Kate will take him. Whether the smoking man can get past the shepherd on a city street is a question. But he could very well try.

* * *

Castle rubs Kate's shoulders as she closes her laptop. "How was your Skype?"

Kate sighs, grasping one of his hands and pressing it against her cheek. "About what you might expect. The family is grateful for closure but is also reliving its grief. The healing can begin now, but it may take a long time."

"You know that better than anyone. You want to talk about it?"

"Not the least little bit. What can your depraved mind think of to distract me?"

Rick swivels her around to face him. "How about a game of Twister?"

"Castle, are you serious?"

"Let me rephrase. How about a game of naked Twister? Right hand blue, left foot red and whatever, whatever?"

Kate's eyes begin to take on a greenish glow. "Sounds like just what I need."

* * *

Castle sprawls on the brightly dotted thick plastic, trying to get his breath. "That was - amazing. I've never seen anyone in that position before. Ooh, I take that back. I saw something similar once it a porn flick, but I thought it was faked. What you did couldn't have been more real."

"So you liked it?'

"Like doesn't even begin to describe. Kate, if you ever find cold cases too chilling, you could always try for a career as a contortionist. Maybe you could go on America's got talent - dressed of course - in something with a lot of stretch to it."

"Dressed or not, I'm not doing that in front of Sharon Osborne and definitely not for Piers Morgan. He'd probably criticize the angle of - never mind. My performance was strictly for an audience of one."

"And that one greatly appreciated it - and what followed." A bark vibrates through the air from the direction of the door. "Sounds like Custos needs an outing. I'll take him as soon as my legs work again and I can get some pants on. I'd ask if you wanted to stretch your legs too, but that would be redundant. Feel like a walk? You could wear that sundress that is totally inappropriate for a police detective, but perfect for a lady of leisure - however temporarily."

"All right, Castle, I'll slip into it while you find your jeans. We don't want to keep Custos waiting too long."

"Right. With the amount of food he consumes, the pooch probably has plenty to let loose. I get the extra-large bags."

"As long as you're the one who does the scooping. He's your dog."

"A dog that led us to Bracken - more or less," Castle points out. "If I must wield the scoop, I will consider it an honor."

Kate smacks him on what she can reach of his bare behind. "Just go get dressed."


	43. Chapter 43

Shattered Lies

Chapter 43

"Want to take the grand tour?" Castle asks, holding loosely to Custos' leash. Trainer, Laurie Sullivan, had done an excellent job. The dog doesn't really need to be restrained, but the city laws require it.

Kate shrugs. "Why not?"

Castle starts off the opposite way from where the smoking man is lurking. That's no relief to Jackson. Richard and Kate could easily make a circuit and come back around the block. The loiterer has yet to do anything threatening. Even if he does, Jackson can't just shoot him. He's been set up in the apartment opposite Richard long enough to have shed too many clues, and in any case, it could be tough to get a decent angle on the man with a steady flow of pedestrians passing by.

Jackson needs to get closer. There's an alley near where the potential foe is standing. Perhaps that's where he intends to herd his victims. Jackson can take a route around the backs of the buildings and end up behind Mr. Nondescript. He'll be ready to act if anything happens.

Custos is, as usual, curious, one of the traits he shares with his master. On this trip he also seems to be on the alert; sniffing the air and looking around. "You think he smells a coyote?" Castle wonders. "There have been some venturing into the city."

"I don't know Castle. I'm more inclined to worry about human beings, but I don't see anyone."

Castle reaches down to ruffle the fur on Custos head. "Whatever it is buddy, we'll keep our eyes open."

* * *

Jackson crouches behind a dumpster, his eyes on his target. He won't be able to stay like that for long. His knees aren't what they once were, but for now, he's concealed and has a good view of the man on the sidewalk.

Rick carefully seals a water soluble bag and drops it into a squashable net tote he had in his pocket. "I guess we're ready to close the circle."

Custos looks increasingly wary as Rick and Kate approach the loft from the opposite direction from which they started, letting out a bark at the man standing on the sidewalk, stomping out a cigarette butt. "It is a dirty habit," Castle murmurs to the shepherd. As Custos growls, Kate sees a flash of silver between the man's hands, as he throws a loop of fine wire around her neck and attempts to drag her into the alley. Jackson springs forward, but Custos is faster, pulling free from Castle, knocking the wire free and the attacker to the ground. Kate retrieves the small backup pistol she had secured in a band on her thigh beneath her dress and aims it at her attacker. "I wouldn't move. I'm not sure what would make you bleed out faster, my bullet or his teeth."

Castle hastily summons help from the 12th precinct, then runs his finger over the thin red line the wire left on Kate's neck. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah. Custos took this jerkoff down before he could do much damage."

"Callie was strangled with a wire. You think this is the guy who did it?" Castle queries.

"Lanie can compare the wire to the marks she found on Callie's body, but it's possible." Kate's mouth turns upward as her eyes sparkle. "That would mean that we're getting close to our target."

Castle's fists tighten. "I'm glad you're happy about it, considering you're the one our perp here tried to take out of the picture."

"Castle, when bad guys run scared is when they make mistakes, and sending this guy was a big one."

* * *

Custos is sitting on the sidewalk but still sniffing and scanning the area when Smoking Man is loaded into the back seat of a marked unit. Castle hunkers down next to Kate's furry protector, scratching him behind the ears. "It's all right, Boy. You got him, and the nice officers will be taking him to the precinct to lock him up."

The dog gets up and leads Castle and Kate into the alley, smelling the dirty and stained cement until he reaches the area behind the dumpster. Gazing back at Rick, he lets out a yip. "That's strange," Castle notes. "I'm not surprised he finds all sorts of interesting scents here, but the sound he made is like what he does when he senses a family member. Maybe there's an essence unique to my line, a pheromone or something. My father was watching us in Little Russia. Do you think he could have been here too?"

"Castle, there's no doubt you're unique, but concluding that your father was here from the pitch of Custos' bark is stretching it a little, don't you think?" Kate asks.

"Maybe not," Castle muses. "If someone was here and Custos thought he was a threat, he would have barked the house down. I think he knows more than you give him credit for. I wonder if he could track where my father went."

"We don't have time for that, Babe. Once Wire Man is processed, I'll want to question him. If he was Callie's killer, he might be able to lead us to whoever sent him after both of us. If your father is hanging around somewhere, Custos will get another chance to find him."

* * *

Bertrand Manning smacks the balls in his Newton's cradle hard, the clicking echoing through the room. He'd told Salmon not to send Cyrus Gooch - or anyone - after an investigator, but the idiot had done it anyway. And the killer has asked for a lawyer. Hopefully, that was the only thing he's opened his mouth to do. Manning can send an associate. The last thing he wants to do is get mixed up with Salmon's errand boy. If push comes to shove, and Gooch talks, he'll let Salmon go down. Up against the Southern District, that would be inevitable, and Manning will isolate himself while he can.

* * *

Through the glass in Observation, Kate eyes the man handcuffed to the table. He asked for counsel, and she'll have to wait to question him until someone shows up. She's also waiting to hear back from Lanie about the wire - hopefully before she begins her interrogation.

Castle isn't with her. He called Miniver to stay with the still agitated Custos, and he'll be coming after the sitter arrives. That's fine. In the meantime, Kate can learn a lot by watching the man identified as Cyrus Gooch and trying not to giggle at his name.

It's easy to for her to tell that the would-be killer is nervous. Stains are blooming beneath his arms, and he has a tic in one muddy brown eye. That's good, it will make driving him toward a deal easier, even with an attorney at his side.

Lanie's ringtone tinkles from Kate's cell. "Kate, the wire is a perfect match to the marks on Callie's neck. I don't have the analysis of the alloy back yet, but I'd be willing to bet the man who tried to kill you, murdered Callie. Go get him, girl!"

Ryan knocks on the door. "Gooch's attorney is here. He and Castle rode the elevator up together. Castle is making coffee for the two of you. He should be joining you in a minute. Shall I let the lawyer into the box?"

"Wait until Castle finishes making coffee. We'll let Gooch and his lawyer get a good whiff of what they can't have."

"That's a new ploy for you," Ryan notes.

"Yeah, but I feel like Gooch deserves it."


	44. Chapter 44

Shattered Lies

Chapter 44

Rita hands Jackson Hunt a beer and sets bowls of tortilla chips and salsa between them. "So, the kids managed to take care of themselves."

Jackson takes a swig from his bottle. "They had some help from the dog. He took that guy down like a champ."

"But Richard was smart enough to get the dog and have him trained, wasn't he? In his own way, he's taking care of himself and his family. I'm sure if he knew you were keeping watch, he'd appreciate it, but you can't always be there."

Jackson's fingers tighten around the chilled glass. "I can't always be anywhere. I've already beaten the odds more times than I care to remember. Sooner or later my luck will run out. But right now, I have a chance to be some kind of a father. I'm not about to step back from that unless I'm forced to."

"And that could happen at any time." Rita points out. "You could get a call any minute. And you can always be sent on a mission from which you'd never return. So could I. We both had to make peace with that a long time ago."

Jackson slams down his bottle, salsa sloshing over the rim of its container. "All the more reason to be around for my family and do what I can for as long as I can."

Rita reaches for his hand. "I wouldn't expect anything else."

* * *

Kate regards the young attorney sitting next to Cyrus Gooch. His hair is freshly combed, and his tie is straight - a little too straight. He is a classic example of dressing for success - outfitted for where he wants to be not where he is - on the bottom rung of private practice. If the jewel theft syndicate had any hope of rescuing Gooch, they would have sent the first team. It's pretty clear the hitman is being thrown under the bus. From the squirrely way he's glancing at the man beside him, it's evident that he knows it. Excellent. Game on.

Kate takes a sip of the rich brew Rick crafted for her and fiddles with her black leather-bound folder, pretending to review facts she knows by heart. "Mr. Gooch, you must be aware that we have you cold for assaulting me."

"My client could sue you for your dog's attack." Bert Kingston, the young lawyer, suggests.

"It was my dog," Castle interjects, "and Mr. Gooch can feel free. Considering that my faithful canine acted in defense of Detective Beckett, I imagine a jury would be more likely to award a ribbon for first in class than assess any penalty."

"Furry friend aside," Kate continues, "Mr. Gooch has a much bigger problem than attempted homicide. We have connected him to the murder of Cassie Lowell, a young woman trying to solve the killings of her parents. Mr. Kingston, how do you suppose a judge or jury would view that? We are fully aware that there are others behind Mr. Gooch's activities, bad actors that the Southern District of New York has a great interest in, as does the N.Y.P.D. Unless Mr. Gooch would like to be a prison sex toy for the rest of his life, I would advise he give some thought to cooperation."

Kingston eyes the rivulets of sweat dripping down Gooch's face. Inexperienced as he is, he knows a guilty man when he sees one. "I need to consult with my client."

Kate closes her folder, rising from the table. "I'm not surprised."

* * *

"So," a naked Rick says, plumping his pillow before climbing into bed next to Kate, "you've successfully tied up hot and cold running homicides. You have Callie's killer and the man behind both her death and her parents' murders. I would never have guessed that MGS stood for Manchester Gregor Salmon, but I can understand why he would have used his initials."

Kate grins. "His name does have a fishy sound to it."

Castle palms his face. "Ouch! How long have you been saving that one up?"

"Ever since Gooch spilled his guts. The Southern District and the FBI are still going to be working on taking apart the web of Salmon's organization for a while. Interpol will be involved too. They might be rounding up some of Powell's old friends."

"I doubt it. Ghosts of Powell's caliber are too skilled to get caught. Besides, from what I gather, most of them are retired now. They are of a less electronic age. They're not interested in hacking computerized security systems or somersaulting through laser arrays. Now all the stories are of 14 year-olds ripping people off from their keyboards while their parents are oblivious."

"Are you going to incorporate that plotline into a Nikki Heat?"

"Hell no! Young genius hackers have found their way into almost every TV show and a large proportion of movies. I don't need to jump on that bandwagon. One of the advantages of you deciding to pursue cold cases is that they're a throwback to days of more thoughtful and creative crime solving. The brains involved are human - not electronic. By the way, I've received quite a lot of input on Out of the Dark and a couple of big bucks backers have also expressed interest."

"Big bucks backers. Can you say that three times fast?" Kate teases.

"After the excellent red wine we had at dinner, I would not even make an attempt. But seriously, Kate, when you give the word, I believe we could get your cold case solving machine up and running in very short order."

Kate snuggles into his bare shoulder. "Dad and I only have a few more names left on the list of loved ones of Bracken's victims. Consider the word given."

Rick traces the curve of her hip with his palm. "And what else would you like to discuss?"

Kate presses two fingers to his lips. "Right now, a conversation is the last thing on my mind."

Straddling him, she circles two unnecessary features of the male anatomy with her tongue before caressing to attention a member that she finds absolutely essential. Castle reaches up to ease her filmy teddy over her head, exposing the eager tips of the creamy globes beneath. He toys with them, sending jolts of arousal where Kate is already open and slick.

She takes him in almost too easily, tightening around his firm heat to heighten the sensation. As his fingers find the epicenter of her need, she gasps, her head falling back, the tips of her hair brushing his thighs.

Their world contracts, with only the motion of their bodies and the pressure building within them remaining. Castle rolls Kate beneath him, thrusting more deeply. Her hips rise, grinding against him. She needs more. Her lips find his; her tongue seeking the embrace of its mate. The bed creakily protests their desperation to complete their joining. The explosive release rocks them both, presaging the aftershocks that sweep through them, robbing them of air and strength.

Lying flat on his back, Rick draws a shaky breath. "That was amazing! Is this going to happen every time you get good news about your future detecting endeavors?"

Kate saucily traces a fingertip over the cooling skin of his midsection. "I guess we'll just have to find out."


	45. Chapter 45

Shattered Lies

Chapter 45

Kate has sat around a lot of conference tables but not one like this in the posh meeting room of the Four Seasons hotel. The leather upholstered chairs actually have lumbar support, and she suspects that the massive writing surface would be stable in an earthquake. If she and Castle were in California, she might even have spotted it as a place of refuge.

The company is no less intimidating than the room. She recognizes one of Castle's fellow authors - the one who could buy and sell her millionaire fiancé with his petty cash account. Rick had given her names in advance of the meeting, but the other faces are unfamiliar to her. If they had Facebook accounts or LinkedIn pages, she didn't find them, just some obscure listings on various boards of directors.

The water in front of her would have cost 10 dollars in a mini-bar, and she can't even speculate about the price of the melt-in-your-mouth chocolate mints. A credenza holds air pots of coffee and hot water for tea with an assortment of bags both caffeinated and decaffeinated. A platter of pastries next to them would put most New York bakeries to shame. OK, she gets it, these folks are rich, and somehow Castle has cajoled them into coming to listen to her presentation about Out of the Dark. Rick helped her write it, and she practiced on Alexis and her father, both of whom declared it convincing, but now her stomach is threatening to jump out of her mouth if she parts her lips.

Rick makes introductions and each attendee except the author, Bergeron, hands Kate a tastefully embossed business card. She arranges them to make sure she doesn't forget anyone's name. Right now she's not sure she remembers her own.

Castle smilingly hands over the floor, squeezing her hand in encouragement before she begins. "Over twelve years ago, while investigating the corrupt actions of William Bracken my mother was stabbed and left to bleed out in a trash-filled alley." Castle presses a control that projects the crime scene photo of Johanna Beckett on a screen. "A police officer named John Raglan," Kate continues, "under instructions from Bracken, chalked her death up to random gang violence, declaring the case unsolvable. It was not." Castle replaces the photo of Johanna with a mug shot of Bracken before Kate continues. "William Bracken is now behind bars, and the man he hired to murder my mother is dead. The loss of my mother can never be forgotten by anyone who knew her, but uncovering and punishing those behind it has afforded me some measure of peace. It is that peace I would like to give to so many others who have never received closure for the murders of those dear to them." The screen fills with images of grieving families, as Kate girds herself to go on.

"Unfortunately, the time and resources afforded to law enforcement are limited. Even when investigated, if perpetrators are not caught within the first 48 hours, a trail can quickly go cold. Evidence is loaded into boxes shoved on crowded basement shelves, often never to be examined again. For the sake of so many out there who have never received the answers they desperately need, I want to change that. I'm proposing an institution with national and possibly international reach, staffed with well trained and dedicated investigators and scientists and housing the most advanced forensics equipment possible."

Castle puts up an artist's rendering of the lab facilities planned for Out of the Cold as Kate waves at the projection. "Our services would be available on a sliding scale, according to our clients' ability to pay, with the difference being made up by grants and contributions. If you have ever shouted your anguish into a dark night, you can understand just how heart-wrenching it can be for your pleas to go unanswered. What I'm asking is that you help provide the means to answer those desolate calls."

The room remains in silence as Kate sinks back in her chair. Bergeron is the first to speak. "Many years ago, on report card day, my mother told my older sister and me that she was so proud of us that she was going out to get cake and ice cream to celebrate. She never returned. I remember the police coming to our door that night, telling us that her body was found at the edge of the supermarket parking lot. She had been stabbed and raped. To this day, her killer has never been identified. My sister woke in the middle of the night screaming for years. I coped by writing stories of detectives who could always uncover the truth no matter how mysterious or heinous the crime. It has never filled the gaping hole left by the failure of justice. So let me be the first to pledge my support to Out of the Cold - financially and otherwise." He gazes around the table. "And for the sake of all the others suffering as Detective Beckett did and my sister and I still do, I urge you to pledge yours as well."

* * *

Cuddled with Rick on the couch in the loft, Kate sips slowly on a glass of white wine. "I never expected Bergeron to write that large a check - or the others either. It was your words, Babe. Just like with your books, you plugged into their hearts."

"They may have been my words, but I was only helping you to express what was in your own heart. You were the real power in that room, Kate. I just helped craft a speech. You conceived Out of the Cold, and you're birthing it." Rick shifts to face her. "And since that the bun is in the oven now, so to speak, there's something else we need to talk about - setting a date to get married. With so much hanging over your head, it didn't feel right to bring it up before, but Kate, I want to be your husband. I want to take the vows and make it clear to the whole world that whatever happens, we're together for life, and if there is an afterlife, there too."

Kate rakes her fingers through her hair. "Wow, Babe, that came out of the blue."

"Not really, it's been at the edge of my mind ever since I slipped the ring Callie made, on your finger. It's just that you were so immersed in other matters of murder and mayhem that I didn't want to push you. There's never a perfect time, but this is the first chance in a while we've had to breathe without some wire wielding would-be strangler coming after you. So Kate, what do you think? Private ceremony or huge bash and when?"

"The two questions kind of go together don't they? I mean if we decided to go to City Hall or run off to Vegas, we could do it in a couple of days, but a formal wedding takes time and planning. I know. I've been a bridesmaid six times."

"Well now you're going to be the bride, and I'll go along with whatever you want, as long as we end up married. So what will it be?"

Kate takes his hands in hers, rubbing her thumbs over his knuckles. Marrying you and launching Out of the Cold will be the two most important events in my life. I think we should combine them. Let's get married at the facility after we solve the first case."

Castle pulls her close for a kiss. "That sounds perfect."


	46. Chapter 46

Shattered Lies

Chapter 46

"What are you looking at?" Castle asks, dropping into his accustomed seat next to Kate's desk at the 12th Precinct.

"It's Jada Bergeron's file. She was killed in the Bronx, so I had one of the guys at the 44th dig it up for me."

"When Winston Bergeron was a kid, the area around the 44th wasn't the best neighborhood."

"No, it wasn't," Kate agrees. "When I committed to looking into Jada's case, Winston Bergeron gave me the history of his family. They came from Jamaica. After Winston's father drowned in a hurricane, Jada brought him and his older sister Abigay to the United States, thinking she could support them better here, but they went through some tough times.

"Jada cleaned houses and worked as a health aide, the kind that changes sheets and dumps bedpans. But they got along. Abigay was old enough to watch Winston while Jada worked double shifts. That's why the idea of cake and ice cream for the kids was such a big deal. Most of the time the food budget only covered essentials.

"That the Bergerons are immigrants - and black - may have played into why the police gave the case so little attention. Also, technology then wasn't nearly what it was now. The clothes Jada wore when she was murdered were never analyzed for DNA. The M.E. didn't check for it either."

"If she was raped, there might have been semen."

"Exactly, or even sweat, but they didn't have the amplification then to do phenotyping, and DNA databases were practically nonexistent."

"Have her clothes been preserved?"

"I'm trying to find out. The NYPD doesn't throw much away, but the primary, a Detective Persky, may not have considered them worth keeping."

Castle shakes his head. "Jada died when Bergeron was just a boy, and he's older now than I am. Persky will be retired if he hasn't passed on. Can you track him down?"

"I'm going to try, but since this isn't officially my case, I'll have to be careful about using police resources."

"The computer system for Out of the Cold is being delivered this week. Some of the board members have pulled a few strings to get hookups to otherwise unavailable databases. The DNA analyzer should be in soon too. How are you coming on finding someone to run it?"

Kate close's Jada Bergeron's file. "I have Lanie doing the vetting. She's having a good time too. Apparently one of the candidates is a former college basketball player with a Ph.D. in forensic science. She called him back for a return interview. I think she's hoping that if we hire him, he'll ask her out."

Castle glances across the bullpen. "We might see a little smoke coming out of Esposito's ears. Whenever he's in her lab with us, his eyes tend to focus more on Lanie's, um, assets, than on the corpse in question."

Kate rolls her eyes. "I've noticed. But if he doesn't want her looking elsewhere, he should put up or shut up and ask her out himself."

"Maybe if he realizes he has some serious competition, he will. So with Lanie handling forensics, how are you doing on detectives?"

"Not as well as I hoped I would. Guys like Ryan and Espo, they've put in enough years not to want to walk away without a pension. And a lot of the retired cops have left New York for someplace warmer - or cheaper. The ones I've talked to who are left had either gone to work in security, started their own agencies or are more set in their ways than I'd like, especially where cyber skills are concerned."

"It sounds like you have a couple of options, cops who are retiring now or young ones you can train in the Beckett mode. Hey, how about Montgomery? He has his thirty in and Evelyn would love for him to leave the force before he gets himself killed and so he'll have more time with her and the kids. He's kept up with computers too. He could be great as a part-time consultant or something."

"You know Babe; you could be right. I'm so used to thinking of him as my boss; it never occurred to me that he could work for me - for Out of the Cold. But I'm not sure how to bring it up."

"No problem! He's coming over for poker tonight. After a couple of beers and some of my famous guacamole, we can feel him out. Who knows? He might even have an idea about where to find Persky."

"Fine, Castle. Just don't take too much of his money."

Rick leans in for a quick kiss. I will be kind - unless he says no."

"Babe, while we're discussing projects, how about yours?"

"Oh, you mean our wedding?"

Kate tugs at his ear. "Yeah, I mean our wedding."

"The Fire Marshall says that the maximum number of people we can have in the lobby of the building that the Out of the Cold Foundation bought, is 100. It would be a lot less if we have tables. So I went back to the building engineer and architect who checked it out for us before we put in an offer. They both say the roof is solid enough to hold at least 200 guests plus tables, catering staff and a band. It's flat enough to lay down a portable dance floor too. If the weather looks iffy, we could put up one of those inflatable domes, but I'm hoping for clear skies. With the park practically across the street, the view is great - at least in one direction."

"Castle, I never would have thought of the roof. I've never even been up there."

"That is a situation we need to rectify immediately, or at least after your shift tomorrow. We should check out the upgrades on the restrooms anyway. Can't have master detectives and scientists washing off in cracked sinks. And the urinals - ooh, never mind. Alexis will be on Custos duty. She can cook or order in if she wants to. We could grab a blanket, stop by the deli, and have a roof-top picnic."

"Sounds great. I wish we could go tonight."

"First things first. Poker and personnel."

* * *

Montgomery holds up a tortilla chip for inspection. "These are great, Castle, where did you get them?"

"A little bodega where the family matriarch fries them up fresh in the back. It's not far from the Out of the Cold building. You should check it out."

Montgomery dips his chip deeply into the avocado dip. "The bodega or the Out of the Cold Building?"

Kate jumps into the opening Castle created for her. "Both, Sir. I was wondering. I mean I heard what Evelyn said the last time she was in your office, about wanting you to retire. Would you consider coming and working for Out of the Cold?"

"You could set your own hours to make Evelyn happy." Castle hastily adds. "And have more time with your kids. They grow up so fast. Alexis is 16 going on 35."

"I hear that," Montgomery agrees. "And Beckett is right. Evelyn does want me to retire, but the idea of sitting around on my butt, at least when I couldn't be out fishing, never sat right with me. Working part-time, I would have more time with my family, but I wouldn't feel like I've been put out to pasture."

"So you'll consider it?" Beckett asks.

Montgomery grins and takes a bite of his chip. "If I don't, I could spend the rest of my nights sleeping on the couch."


	47. Chapter 47

Shattered Lies

Chapter 47

"Persky," Montgomery considers, stroking the stubble forming on his cheek. "Never knew him personally. He was a few years ahead of me in the academy, and I didn't work that much with the 44th. But from what I heard, he was a slacker, just putting in his time to get out. Probably left after 20. Might be in Florida or somewhere else in the deep South. He had that kind of an attitude - if you get my drift."

Kate nods. "I get the picture. Castle and I were thinking the same thing after looking at Jada Bergeron's file. Persky did the minimum at best."

"If he is drawing a pension, it shouldn't be that hard to track him down," Montgomery muses. "The N.Y.P.D. may lose a file, but the department keeps a very careful eye on where the money goes. There's someone in accounting who owes me a favor. I can give him a call in the morning."

"I'd appreciate it, Sir."

"I appreciate your offer, and I know Evelyn will."

Castle rubs his hands together. "Now that we have that settled, how about another round of beers - or perhaps given the occasion we can enjoy my fifty-year-old single malt."

"I'm not about to say no to that," Montgomery declares.

* * *

At the 12th, Montgomery touches Kate on the shoulder and inclines his head toward his office. Castle follows her in, and the captain closes the door. "I got a line on Persky. He's in Mississippi, in a little town called Abbeville."

Castle punches an inquiry into his phone. "Little is right; population around 400. Not much more than a post office and a field station for the University of Mississippi. It's on the water, Sardis Lake. He could go fishing."

"We're the ones who are going to have to go fishing - for information," Kate remarks.

"We could fly down this weekend," Castle suggests. "In a town that small it shouldn't be that hard to bump into the man, especially if we work at it. Mother is doing a cleansing between roles thing, so she'll be home with Alexis - although I don't know who'll be keeping an eye on whom. I'll have my travel agent book us into the nicest hotel she can find within ten miles. Hmm, we need an excuse for being there. How about checking out scientists who understand the ecology of wetlands for investigating crimes committed near water? We could be deciding whether to use the Field Station as a resource for Out of the Cold. Stuff goes on there during weekends."

"You know, Castle, that's really not a bad idea," Montgomery put in. "People do commit homicides near water, thinking they can dump the bodies, and any evidence will be gone before anyone finds them."

Castle unconsciously finger combs his hair. "Yeah. Pity Persky didn't move to Louisiana or Florida. Then we could inquire about alligators consuming unfortunate murder victims in the Bayou or the Everglades, but a lake is cool too."

* * *

Castle spreads out a blanket on the rough surface of the Out of the Cold roof, and Kate sets up a battery-powered lantern. She starts laying out salads and cold cuts from an insulated bag. "You were right about the view, Castle."

"And the taller buildings beside and behind this one serve as good windbreaks," Castle points out, working a corkscrew into the top of a bottle of red wine. If we don't go with the inflatable building, the caterers shouldn't have to weigh things down too much." He points to a spot near the edge facing the park. "We can have the ceremony right there, with our guests either standing or being able to watch from tables. Then we can put the dance floor off to the side. That will leave a clear path for the servers and anyone needing to get to the elevator or stairs to avail themselves of the facilities below. The third-floor restrooms may be enough, but we should double check. If they drink enough champagne, our revelers might need the ones on the second floor as well. And I figure you can use the first-floor conference room as a bride's room and I can use one of the offices as a groom's space."

Kate caresses his cheek. "You really have thought our wedding plans out a lot, haven't you?"

Rick covers her hand with his own. "You're the bride. The final word is yours, but I think it will be a great wedding - the best one ever, since I'm marrying you."

Kate presses her lips to his. "If all this food wasn't making me so hungry, I might tackle you on this blanket right now."

Castle waves his hand in a semi-circle around them. "We would be putting on a show for anyone working late in the offices overlooking us. Once your other appetites are satisfied, however, I did have a rather sizeable sofa with a foldout bed delivered to the lounge, for any of our dedicated lab workers with analyses that would have to run through the night."

Kate throws two salad containers and a packet of sliced roast beef back in the bag. "Forget the food. We can eat later."

* * *

Castle props himself up on one elbow, running his hand over the cover of the couch's foldable mattress. "This thing is not half bad. But I'll have to remember to get a pad and some sheets for it - and some pillows."

Kate stretches, arching her back. "It felt wonderful to me." Her stomach rumbles.

Castle palms her abdomen. "Ah, one hunger satisfied, at least for the moment, and another emerges. Back to our picnic? I'll give you the first shot at making a sandwich."

"Deal."

"We have a hotel," Castle says, spreading avocado mayonnaise on bread baked half and half with rye and pumpernickel.

"Kate looks up from a forkful of mustardy potato salad. "What? We just…"

"I meant for our trip to Abbeville, except that the hotel is in Oxford - Mississippi not England - about nine miles away. Oxford also has some lovely eateries, but as far as I can tell, the sole restaurant in Abbeville is a steak house. I figure that might be our best place to meet up with Persky."

Kate reaches for her sandwich. "Let's hope he isn't a home cook. When does our flight take off?"

"Six a.m. Saturday morning. We fly into Tupelo and rent a car from there. I figure with any luck; we'll be in Oxford by late afternoon, in time to check in before grabbing a steak dinner in Abbeville."

"But what do we do if we don't make contact with Persky?"

Castle snakes his fork over to Kate's salad container. "What we always do - improvise."

"That's not much of a plan, Babe."

"I know. But together we always seem to manage to come up with something, don't we?"

"I guess. But speaking of coming up with things, what was that unmarked container you threw into the bag for dessert?" Kate queries.

"Why don't you open it and find out?"

"Cookies?"

Castle snorts. "Not just cookies, Kate. Double-stuffed Oreos dipped in dark chocolate: a triple sin or a triple pleasure, depending on how you value gustatory enjoyment."

Kate closes her eyes as she savors a bite. "Babe, what do you say we give that couch downstairs one more workout - as soon as I finish this?"


	48. Chapter 48

Shattered Lies

Chapter 48

"Castle, why are we going by private plane and why do we have to leave at 6 a.m.?" Kate asks as Castle parks near the tarmac at Teterboro.

"Because if we didn't go by private plane, we'd be making at least two changes with layovers in between and probably not reach Oxford until tonight. This way, we have one short refueling, lunch pick-up, and bathroom breaks stop, and get there in time to try to meet up with Persky this evening."

"This flight must be costing a fortune."

Castle shrugs. "Consider it my contribution to maintaining Winston Bergeron's goodwill and open checkbook for Out of the Cold. Anyway, the seats are more comfortable; we'll have full-sized tables and decent wi-fi. The pilots also said they'd have Havah's bagels. We won't see those down south."

"I hope they remembered the cream cheese."

"I'm sure they did. I've flown with these guys before. They not only remember the cheese; they remember the lox."

* * *

Kate gazes at the marble wall of what the tiny private airport outside Nashville designated as a ladies room. The facilities look like they should be in a palace. In addition to the stack of paper towels so soft, she would have thought they were cloth. There is a wide assortment of toiletries and supplies of feminine needs. "The rich really are different," she mutters to herself but takes advantage of the upscale hand cream and moisturizer to counteract the effects of the drying air on the plane.

"Castle this place is amazing!" she exclaims as she meets him outside the door of the men's room. "Who are they expecting, Queen Elizabeth?"

"More likely Queen Latifah, if she comes through on tour. But the supplies are for the pilots, whatever gender, as well as the passengers. If anything, they need to rest and refresh more. The concession has some freshly delivered packaged salads, sandwiches and yogurt parfaits. It has an espresso machine and one of those fizzy water makers too. Want to have a look?"

"Sure, but after the bagels and if we're going to have steak tonight, I'd better stick with a salad." She yawns. "I can use the espresso."

"That makes two of us. I want to get some writing done on the second leg of our trip. The Bergeron case is giving me some new ideas for Rook."

"For Rook?"

"You know, a back story. The intrepid reporter, always trying to address the traumas of the world to make up for his own. I was thinking I might have him spending part of his childhood somewhere he was regarded as a minority - a not too bright minority. Perhaps an Asian country. When he hits a snag writing about the abuses to the downtrodden, he retreats into his more comfortable world as a romance writer. It would explain a lot and also give Nikki greater sympathy - and other emotions - toward him."

"So Rook would be like Bergeron, writing to overcome the pain of his history. What about you, Castle? What pain are you fighting to overcome?"

"You mean besides my abandonment issues of a father who left my mother to raise me alone and a mother who went on the road and left me with sitters who drank out of a paper bag while spending their days watching soap operas and game shows?"

"You like soap operas and game shows."

"That's beside the point. Isn't that enough childhood trauma?"

"I don't know Castle, is it?"

Castle makes a show of checking his watch. "The refueling won't take long. We should choose our repasts and get back on the plane."

In flight, Kate reviews Jada Bergeron's file and the little other data she's been able to gather on the case as Castle hunches over his laptop. At the airport, he had an expression on his face she'd only seen once before; when she'd told him about her mother's death, and he'd made up that story about finding the housekeeper's son on the beach. Or had he made it up? She's not sure anymore. Maybe he isn't either. Who remembers things that far back in their childhood clearly? He knows what's driving her, inside and out. Perhaps it's time she understood the same about him.

The airport in Tupelo isn't nearly as well decked out as the one where they stopped in Tennessee, but it has toilet paper, and the towel dispensers work. That's enough for Kate, while Castle fills out the paperwork for their rental car.

Castle's travel agent came through on the hotel, the only four-star in the area. The suite assigned to Rick and Kate has a balcony, flat screen TV, both a tub and a shower and the high thread count sheets Castle loves. Without much unpacking to do, the couple is on the road to Abbeville promptly, looking in on the field station and picking up some literature before seeking out the steak house.

* * *

Castle is immediately convinced he isn't going to like the place much. He claims that the air has the scent of meat not merely seared, but left to cook long enough for the juices to evaporate and the flesh to toughen. When they both order Rick's favorite rib eyes, Kate discovers that her fiancé was spot on. The meat bounces on the plate. Fortunately, the restaurant provides much needed serrated steak knives and sauce to disguise the lack of flavor.

Kate and Castle both eat slowly. They might as well. Small pieces are easier to chew, and there isn't any sign of Persky. Kate is trying to decide whether she's brave enough to sample what is billed as fresh-baked peach cobbler when the tinkling of the bell over the door signals the arrival of another victim. She compares his face with the picture she took from Persky's file. He's older of course. His hair is almost entirely white, and his jowls are more pronounced, but it's Persky. Now she just has to go into her act.

Kate waits until Persky is directed toward what appears to be his usual table, before accidentally bumping into him, sticking out her breasts as far as she can. Persky's eyes don't rise much as Kate's lips overflow with apologies.

"It's fine, Little Lady. No harm done." Persky assures her, the nasal tones of his Bronx accent evident.

Kate smiles up at him. "Oh, another New Yorker. I would never have expected one down here. My fiancé and I are scoping out the field station to see if it can collaborate on a project we're working on. Can we buy you dinner?"

Persky's eyes sweep over Kate's trim body. "I never turn down a free meal. Lead the way." Persky views the remains on Kate's and Rick's plates and shakes his head. "The sign says steak house, but the only thing decent is the fish. It comes straight from the lake every day. The desserts aren't bad though. Marybelle, she's the mother of Jack who runs the place, bakes them herself."

"I was thinking about ordering the cobbler," Kate confesses.

"I have a taste for the chess pie," Castle adds.

Persky smiles benevolently. "Both good choices. I should get through my fish fast enough. They know when I come in. They'll have it ready for me. You can tell me about what that S**** mayor is doing in New York, and we can finish together."

Kate kicks Castle under the table to remind him not to react to the slur on his friend. She forces herself to continue smiling and keep Persky talking.


	49. Chapter 49

Shattered Lies

Chapter 49

Kate gazes wide-eyed at Persky. "You were a homicide detective? How exciting! Did you have any big cases?"

Persky shrugs. "Not too many. Where I was, it was mostly drug dealers and those people killing each other. You know what I mean. Check for any obvious witnesses. Make a report. Not that much else, except for this one case that made the papers. There was this gangster rapper who came from one of the gangs; you know the type. He decided to go back to the old neighborhood; claimed he wanted to do something for the kids there, and he got himself shot. The department made a big deal of it because it wanted to look good to the press, so we had to work hard on that one."

"Did you find out who did it?" Kate asked.

"Some gang leader, they called him Speedball. The rapper was preaching in some kind of campaign to get kids off drugs. Anyway, Speedball decided he might cut into his business and took him out. He wouldn't have changed anything anyway. Those people are determined to kill themselves and each."

"Not interested in bettering themselves," Castle agrees. "Mothers with kids and no fathers around. They just jump into the sack."

"Right," Persky concurs, digging into a slice of pecan pie and smacking his lips. "Ooh. Marybelle outdid herself. This is outstanding. But yeah, a lot of loose bitches popping out pups, and doing - whatever- for money. I did have a case like that. She was from the islands or something. Had two kids, a boy, and a girl. Probably putting out to buy groceries and things went bad for her. At least that's what I figured. No witnesses. No real evidence, so my lieutenant said I could pack everything up and let it go."

Kate leans over the table, aiming her cleavage at Persky's eye line. "If there was no evidence, what did you have to pack up?"

"Clothes and stuff the medical examiner took off the body. He said there might be some tests that could be run on them someday. Stupid, right? Why would anyone want to? But if the N.Y.P.D. decides to keep that junk around forever, it's no skin off my nose, right? Damn! This pie really is delicious. Can't get it like this in New York, can you?"

"Nowhere I know of," Castle agrees, thinking of at least three bakeries that could probably do the job quite nicely.

Persky pats his expanding belly and dabs at his lips with a paper napkin. "Well, it has been a real pleasure meeting you folks, but I want to get home before the game starts."

Castle gives him a thumbs up. "I hear you, man. Should be a great one." He can barely contain himself until the bell on the door signals Persky's departure. "Kate, that was brilliant! You reeled in that bigoted asshole like one of the fish in the lake."

"Yeah, Castle. Now we just have to track down where the N.Y.P.D. is storing the evidence from Jada Bergeron's murder - if they still are, and hope that any DNA on those clothes didn't degrade too much to analyze. And then we'll have to find a match."

Castle grabs a quick kiss. "I'll bet Montgomery can help us, and Lanie's pick of forensics gurus and the technological marvels Out of the Cold has purchased, can do the job. But you know what? I didn't schedule the charter to take us back to New York until tomorrow afternoon, and one of the pamphlets we picked up said there's an open house going on at the field station tomorrow. We might be able to get a line on someone who could be useful to Out of the Cold at some point. If nothing else, it could be a nice jaunt by a lake - if you're into it. Or would you rather spend your time playing fun and games at the hotel?"

"Maybe," Kate proposes, using her fork to scrape the last bit of peachy pastry from her heavy stoneware dessert plate, "we can do both."

* * *

Castle strays from the group as the guide explains the ins and outs of the minnow farming that still supports many residents of the area. The tour would have made a great field trip for Alexis' middle school class, but's it's not exactly what he had in mind.

The visit isn't a total loss. He and Kate have managed to get the name of a professor who studies the breakdown of things in fresh water, that they can contact later if need be. But as Castle stands on the lakeshore, visions begin to bombard him of another body of water, a much smaller one.

Some of his sitters occasionally pried themselves off the couch long enough to take him to Central Park. He liked the carousel when he had money to ride it, and he loved wandering around the zoo. But he especially enjoyed climbing on the big boulders around the lake. They weren't always available. Teenagers used them as make-out spots, which when he was young had a definite ew factor. There was one afternoon when his sitter had settled on a bench with her paper bag and left him free to roam. His favorite rocks were unoccupied, and he was having a great time until he slipped into the water, spraining his ankle as he fell.

He managed to pull himself out, but cold, wet, and in pain, he was trying to limp back to Martha's latest hire when a man approached him and said he could help. The would-be rescuer offered a beach towel he said he'd been using to lie on the grass and suggested that if the little boy went in some bushes with him, he'd help him dry off.

The miserable Richard Rodgers had agreed, but once he started to shed his clothes, discovered that the kindly stranger had other things on his mind than helping him. When he realized what was happening, he screamed, kicked and eventually bit to get away.

His minder was too set on giving him a lecture about showing up wet and dirty to listen to his story, and after a while, he pushed it to the back of his mind. It was more fun to write his first tales of spies who could defeat any villain without even messing up their hair.

He couldn't even remember what the man in the park looked like. It was as if his mind had pushed what happened down into a hole somewhere and thrown dirt in on top of it. But after Kate asked him about his own trauma, the memory had slowly begun to push its way to the surface and while he was looking over the water had emerged full-blown. He remembers a face leering at him, and nausea rising in his throat at the feel of the man's hands on him. It all descends on him like one of Central Park's boulders crashing on his head.

Kate startles Rick as she comes to join him. "What's going on Babe? You look like you lost your best friend."

Castle turns to her. "Hardly. She's standing right in front of me."

"So where's that famous Castle smile? Come on, Rick, what's wrong?"

Castle stares out again at the rippling blue surface. "Kate, I have something I want to, need to, tell you."

Kate grabs for his hand pulling him down to sit cross-legged on the grass with her. She frames his face in her palms. "Whatever it is, I'm listening."


	50. Chapter 50

Shattered Lies

Chapter 50

Kate slips Castle's head into her lap as he's stretched out on the padded bench in the tail of the plane. "Not feeling any better?"

He reaches for her hand, pressing it against his cheek. "I am now. The way the memory came at me, it was like being hit by a bus that backed up and ran over me again."

She leans down to kiss his forehead. "I know. I used to feel that way every time I saw twinkle lights. My mother was murdered on January 9, but my parents hadn't taken them down yet. While Detective Raglan was telling Dad and me that Mom was dead, they were flashing behind us, and I could see the reflection on the floor."

Castle reaches up to brush a strand of hair out of her face. "Henceforth, the loft will never be graced by a single twinkle light."

Kate shakes her head. "The lights don't matter to me anymore. That demon has been exorcised. I wish I had been around when you were in the park, to tell you we'd get the guy, and to smack some sense into your sitter."

"Kate, you weren't old enough to walk when it happened. I was ten, and it was just after my Dad had given me a copy of Casino Royale in the library - right before Mother went on tour."

Kate's jaw tightens. "Perps like that, they don't try to molest only one child. They're driven to do it over and over. He might have been reported to the cops. He might have been caught. While we're digging through old records, we could find out. That is if you're up for it."

Castle springs upright, throwing his legs over the side of the seat. "Damn straight I'm up for it. If someone threw that bastard in the hole he deserved, I need to know." The right side of Rick's mouth tugs upward. "Looks like it's papercut time again."

Kate strokes the tips of his fingers. "I can still kiss them and make them better."

* * *

Lanie's ringtone announces a call on Kate's phone, just as Castle is pouring morning coffee. "Kate, put Castle on too. " Kate thumbs the speaker icon. "Hey, you two! We scored big time! Clark Murray has agreed to come work for Out of the Cold. He just had one proviso."

"What?" Castle asks.

"He wants to be a character in your next book, Writer Boy. And no calling him Doctor Death. You know how he loves opera. He wants you to call him Doctor Pavarotti or Dr. Domingo."

Castle smothers a laugh. "If I call him Dr. Domingo, I'll picture pink birds every time I write about him. Dr. Pavarotti, it will be."

"Great, because he already looked at Jada Bergeron's autopsy file. He didn't see anything that will help solve the case, but he did notice a lot of defensive wounds. And her fingernails were broken. That woman fought back hard. She wanted to live to get home to her babies. I thought Winston and Abigay Bergeron would want to know that."

"I'm sure they will appreciate it," Castle responds. "Thanks, Lanie."

Kate shakes her head as she ends the call. "That monster probably killed her or at least put her out before he raped her. You called Montgomery from the airport last night, didn't you?"

"I did. He said he's going to make a few calls this morning to locate Jada Bergeron's clothes - if they still exist. When we get to the 12th, I can make him one of the special coffees that he likes, to boost his enthusiasm."

Kate's eyebrows shoot up. "Irish coffee first thing in the morning?"

"The other special coffee, the cappuccino with a shot of nutmeg."

"Did you ask him about your case?"

"Kate, that's between you and me, OK? I never even told Mother and there's no point in it now. But I did ask him about where thirty-year-old molestation files would be stowed. Apparently, the same dusty cavern where we found the records on Pulgatti - only deeper in. I think this time I'll stop at the drugstore and get a couple of masks."

"Not a bad idea."

* * *

Montgomery strides out of his office quickly covering the distance to Kate's desk. I've got a line on Jada Bergeron's effects. The N.Y.P.D. built an annex for the 44th ten years after her case - a warehouse put up on a vacant lot a few blocks away. The captain at the 44th back then, Velchis, ordered all the boxes he thought no one was ever going to look at again stored inside. As far as my contacts know, they are still there, filed by case number."

"We have the case number from Jada's file," Kate notes. "Thanks, Captain. I owe you."

Montgomery winks at her. "Have your fiancé here make me another one of those cappuccinos, and we'll call it even."

* * *

Castle watches as Kate uses her Mag-Lite to see how to punch in a code on the keypad next to the heavy metal door of a concrete structure. "This place is built like the N.Y.P.D. was expecting an attack from Mars. I wish we hadn't had to wait until your shift was over and come up here in the dark."

"This isn't an official case, Castle. You know that. For now, I still have to do my job. Anyway, it was built more to repel an intrusion from the 160th Street Strikers. From what I've heard, even the cops up here didn't want to tangle with them. But they lost their dominance years ago. That rapper, Speedball, that Persky was talking about might have taken the first step toward their downfall."

"A fatal step. Let's get inside before we meet up with any ghosts from the past." Castle gazes at the boxes stacked high on heavy metal racks and points to labels affixed on supporting posts. "Case numbers. The way the boxes are arranged," he points down a row, "Jada Bergeron's things should be in there somewhere."

Kate looks up as they reach the appropriate numerical span. "It would be on a top shelf, and I don't see a ladder around. Can you give me a boost?"

"That is always my pleasure."

I think I'm going to have to climb on your shoulders."

"My body is yours to ascend."

Kate pulls off her shoes, dons a pair of nitrile gloves and clambers up Castle. He supports one of his favorite parts of her anatomy while she examines the labels on the lofty boxes. "I found it." She flips open the top. "Jada's things are in here. I can't throw down the whole box, but I can pull out the bags with her stuff and toss those. Nothing's breakable."

Several paper and plastic bags fall not far from Castle's feet. "Not that I mind elevating the love of my life, but are you ready to come down?"

Kate's eyes turn toward the cement floor. "That could be tougher than it was getting up here. Hold onto me?"

"Until the sun becomes a burnt-out cinder."

"I don't think it will take quite that long." Kate makes an awkward slide down his body, landing with his arms around her. "You can let go of me now, Babe."

He kisses the tip of her nose. "Something I never intend to do."


	51. Chapter 51

Shattered Lies

Chapter 51

Kate turns over in bed to see Castle sitting up against the tufted headboard. "You're awake early, Babe."

"Um. I was wishing we could go to the archives and check the records - you know - from the park."

"You know they're not open yet and since we don't have an official reason to be there while I'm on duty, we'll have to at least wait until lunch. You could get the dust masks."

"I already got them, a whole box, rated for airborne dust, allergens, oil, just about anything."

"A little overkill, don't you think?"

"I don't want to be driven out by the protests of our respiratory systems like we were last time. I'm going to look until I either find something or decide there's nothing to find. If you need to return to work, I'm going to stay, even if I have to duck the guardian at the gate. Now that what that pervert tried to do - did do - has come back to me, I need to see finding him through."

"And what if you can't?"

"At least I'll know I didn't sit on my ass whining but doing nothing."

Kate grabs her watch from a bedside table. "It's not even six yet. We could go back to sleep for a while."

"Or we could use the extra time to drop off Jada Bergeron's effects at Out of the Cold before you go on shift. The DNA analyzer is supposed to be all hooked up, and we have Lanie's dream man to run it for us."

"You're right. And the sooner we find out if we'll have a trail to follow, the better. You want the first shower?"

"No, you take it while I get our massive doses of caffeine in process. I have a feeling we're going to need them. And I want to take Custos for a walk. We can both use the air."

* * *

Castle finds himself wishing that cases were filed by the location of the crime rather than by date and category. But both of the latter are useful in winnowing down his search.

He and Kate could barely make a dent during her lunch hour, so he stayed in the archives. He's been there for hours, his gut twisting as he reads report after report. He's always wondered how human beings could commit such acts, many of them more heinous than anything that his personal boogie man had managed to do to him. Still, he hasn't found what he could peg as a match until he pulls out a file almost buried under the others in a box.

Bile rises in Rick's throat as he views the picture clipped to the inside. It's the face that rose from the depths of his memory as he stood on the shore of the lake in Mississippi. The named attached to the image is Don Epstein. He was picked up in Central Park on suspicion after several parents reported that he'd tried to approach their sons while they were playing in the park. A couple of high school students had even identified him as lurking around during a period when another attack took place. But the boy involved had been unable to identify Epstein, and the molester had never been charged.

Rick studies Epstein's vital statistics. He was born in 1951. That would make him almost 60 by now, but he would still have a driver's license or I.D. card. He'd most likely still be in the workforce. Even if he'd found hunting grounds outside of New York, he shouldn't be difficult to track down. But then what? The statute of limitations has long passed on Rick's assault. With Kate's help, he'll figure something out. He has to.

* * *

Castle turns his showerhead to a needlelike spray that pounds his bare skin. He can wash away the dust, but he can't scrub away the specter of Don Epstein. He wishes Kate were with him, but she and the boys caught a case. She could be gone for hours. If he can ever force himself to step out of the water, he can trace Epstein himself. With a name, birthdate and a current or former residence, he can sort through the many Don Epsteins that will come up in a background search. He's just hoping he can hold it together while he does.

Rick towels off slowly and finds himself unable to make the simple choice of a T-shirt to put on, but finally dressed, he sinks into his desk chair. With Custos at his side, he opens his laptop. The country is full of Don Epsteins. He'd expected that. The detailed search he bought of public records for $39.95, lists many with matching birthdates, but only one with a former residence that matches what was in the police report. As Castle suspected he would, Epstein moved out of state. He's made multiple state-to-state moves over the years. Castle hates to think about why. Now Epstein is in Ohio, a six-hour drive or even shorter plane ride away. But Rick isn't sure what he could do if he got there. He needs Kate. He doesn't know if he's ever needed her this much before. It's going to be a long night.

* * *

Kate hadn't expected to find Castle awake, but he's lying in bed staring into the darkness. The death she and the boys had been called to investigate had turned out to be a mix of an accident and natural causes. It hadn't looked that way when she first saw the body at the foot of a flight of stairs. Greg Curlin was covered in bruises as if he had been beaten. But Lanie determined from the records available from the company that provided his medical alert pendant that the unfortunate man had a blood disorder causing excessive bleeding. The disease accounted for the bruises and made his fall down the stairs fatal. Kate had filed her paperwork and put the case to bed, where she had expected to be shortly.

Before he says a word, the look in Rick's eyes speaks volumes. "You found him."

"I know who he is and where he is. He lives two states away, the last of many moves around the country. I just haven't a clue what to do about it. I want to confront him, make him understand what he is."

Kate climbs in beside Rick, intertwining her fingers with his. "It sounds like he's been running. He probably knows what he is and has managed to stay one step ahead of being caught. But would it make you feel better to see him; to face him with what he's done?"

"I don't know. It's not like a murder, Kate, where you can get the guy no matter how long it takes. He's been slithering away for decades. What if he doesn't care what he did? What if he just smiles at me? Kate, I don't think I could handle that. But I couldn't handle just letting him go, to keep doing what he did to me either."

"I know you couldn't. Look. We can go see him together. Whatever happens, I'll be there with you."

Castle draws her tightly against his body. Kate, I don't know what I'd do without you. I can't even begin to imagine how I could live a life without you in it."

Kate presses her cheek into his chest. "Hey, very soon now we'll both be vowing that you'll never have to.


	52. Chapter 52

Shattered Lies

Chapter 52

Don Epstein's address is in an unincorporated area in Northeast Ohio nowhere near an interstate highway. The closest major thoroughfares are to the North through Cleveland or to the South through Akron. There is, however, a small landing strip. The plane that brings Castle and Beckett is more compact and much less luxurious than the one Rick had chartered to Mississippi, but they're only in the air for an hour.

The car waiting for them in the small parking lot isn't particularly opulent either, but it has a working GPS. "Babe, maybe it would be better if I drive," Kate suggests. "You're all in your head right now."

"You're right," Castle admits. "During the flight, I couldn't think of anything except what I want to say to Epstein, and I still haven't figured it out. I wish we could have brought Custos with us. I can't imagine that Epstein could do anything but listen - and maybe tremble a little - with those canine eyes on him. But our furry buddy never would have been safe on the plane. He's better off with Miniver watching over him until we return."

"Castle, you can handle this. And I'll be right there."

Kate tools past cornfields, but Epstein's address is on a main road. Castle winces as they pass an elementary school just before arriving. "Oh, God! Could he be in a worse place?"

"Babe, you said he hasn't lived here long. Maybe he hasn't had a chance to go after any of the kids yet."

"Damn! I hope not."

Epstein's house is small. What lawn there is, needs mowing, and a portable ramp leads up to the front door. A car with a disabled tag hanging from the rear view mirror is in the short driveway. Castle looks at Kate, who squeezes his hand before he raps on the door. When no one answers, he raps again straining to hear what sounds like the squeak of wheels.

The head of the man who opens the door, leaning on a walker, is completely bald. His gaunt features make him almost unrecognizable from his photograph, but the small scar on his cheek is the same, as is the slight bend of his nose to the right. "Who are you people? What do you want?"

Kate jumps in as Castle's words catch in his throat. "Mr. Epstein, I'm Kate Beckett, and this is Richard Castle, and we'd like to talk to you. May we come in?"

Epstein squints at Rick. "Richard Castle? I thought you looked familiar. I saw you on Good Morning America talking about a book. Yeah, all right. Come in. I don't get much company." Epstein waves the couple to a couch and cautiously lowers himself into a straight chair opposite them.

"Is Good Morning America all you recognize me from?" Rick asks, his fingers curling tightly into the fabric of his trousers.

Epstein stares at Castle for a moment. "Why? Have we met? I think I'd remember a celebrity."

Castle digs his teeth into the inside of his bottom lip. "I wasn't a celebrity the first time we met, just a soaked, scared, ten-year-old boy who thought he could spend a day playing in Central Park."

Epstein gasps, reaching for a mask attached to a nearby oxygen tank, and sucks in air. "What do you want from me?'

Castle's eyes flash. "What I want is for you to understand the scars you left on the children you molested and that God should send you to Hell for it."

Epstein shakes his head. "Mr. Castle, he already has. I think I remember that you fought back. You were not the only one who did. I picked up an infection from the slash of a cub scout knife. Then there were more infections and finally the cancer that is killing me. I can't eat. I can barely walk or breathe. You could try to bring me to justice, but the final judge has already taken care of it, and I would never live to hear a verdict. So do whatever you must, it doesn't matter now."

Kate reaches for Castle's hand. "Come on, Babe. Let's go."

"Am I supposed to feel sorry for him?" Castle wonders out loud as he trudges back to the car. "I'm not that noble."

"Neither am I," Kate admits. "The only thing I felt when Bracken was shot was regret that I didn't get the chance to do it myself. But that makes our work for Out of the Cold mean even more to me. I'm hoping we can bring others justice that is more than poetic."

"We will," Castle assures her. "I'm surprised we don't have any DNA results from Jada's clothing yet."

"From what Terry, Lanie's Dr. Perfect told me, he has to separate Jada's DNA from her attacker's and run extra amplification to get a reliable result. Having the clothes sit around that long didn't help, but at least the M.E. put them in paper, not plastic. That's supposed to be better for protecting the DNA from degradation by bacteria. Terry may have something in a couple of days, assuming there is a match in a criminal database."

"If there isn't one, how about the other databases, research or genealogy?" Castle asks. "From the reading I've done, those are growing. We have enough clout on our board to push for access. And can't Terry get a phenotype - hair color, height, a profile of some sort?"

"I don't know, Babe, but we'll try anything we can. You want to find something to eat before we fly back to New York?"

Castle presses a hand to his protesting gut. "We can get a meal if you need it, but right now I'd rather go home."

"Then that's what we'll do," Kate agrees.

* * *

Two days later, Kate's cell buzzes at four o'clock in the afternoon while Castle is making their third round of coffees. Terry reports that he managed to get a partial match to the DNA from Jada's clothes, a child of the perpetrator, who had been convicted of embezzlement.

Kate's shoving her phone back in the pocket of her blazer as Castle approaches bearing two N.Y.P.D. mugs. "Was that Terry?"

"Uh huh. We need a trip to the women's section of Rikers."

Castle puts the cups down on the desk, the liquid sloshing up to the rims. "The killer raped Jada. How could it be a woman?"

"It couldn't. But apparently, criminal behavior runs in the family."

* * *

Janice Bielman stares at Kate. "Why do you want to know about my father, Detective? What did the sonofabitch do now?"

"I take it the two of you are not on the best of terms?" Castle assumes.

"Hardly," Janice responds. "He's a twenty-four-carat bastard. He beat my mother, and hit me."

"And your mother never reported it?" Kate queries.

"She was scared to death to say anything to anyone. And she was afraid that if she left, she wouldn't be able to make it on her own. My father controlled the money - everything really, even what was on my mother's grocery shopping list. I couldn't wait to get out of the house - get away. But even when I did, he kept coming around, saying I owed him loyalty for putting a roof over my head and food in my mouth when I was growing up. Can you believe it? That's what finally landed me in here. I was trying to get enough money together to move out of the country, where he couldn't find me."

"Do you know where he is now?" Kate asks.

"Maybe. He sent me a letter telling me how disappointed he is in me. There was a back address on it in Brooklyn. He might still be there."


	53. Chapter 53

Shattered Lies

Chapter 53

In Brooklyn, Castle points up at a brownstone that has seen better days. "This is it; the address for Gerard Bielman."

"Castle, stay behind Esposito and Ryan," Kate instructs. "We know this guy committed one murder. We have no idea what else he might have done or what weapons he might have in there."

Bielman's apartment is on the third floor, but there is no elevator. Holding her service pistol Kate leads the way up the worn staircase to a scarred wooden door, stepping around the refuse spilling from a torn bag onto the floor of the landing.

Like most doors in New York, this one features a peephole, but the scratched glass is unlikely to afford a clear view. With Judge Markway's no-knock warrant in her pocket, Kate nods to Esposito to kick in the door. She clears the hallway, with Esposito and Ryan checking the kitchen and the front bedroom. She finds Gerard Bielman in the back bedroom, desperately trying to force open a jammed window to reach the fire escape. He falls to his knees at her command.

* * *

Winston Bergeron stands shoulder to shoulder with Castle, looking through the glass into the room where Kate is questioning Gerard Bielman. Though not a small man, the hunching of his body brings Gerard's eyes to a level below hers. Kate gazes down on him. Like most bullies, he cowered in the face of genuine strength.

Once she had a name, Kate was able to check his employment history. At the time he raped and murdered Jada Bergeron, he had been a shelf stocker for years at the supermarket where she went seeking cake and ice cream to reward the achievements of her children.

"Why did you Kill Jada Bergeron, Gerard?" Kate demands.

Bielman doesn't lift his gaze from the bare tabletop in front of him. "Who's Jada Bergeron?"

"Jada Bergeron was a mother of two children, a boy, and a girl, who was working two jobs to support them. She went to Shop-a-lot to try to buy something nice for them, and you raped and murdered her. Your DNA is all over her clothes. You were there that night. We have you cold. The only way you can help yourself now is to tell me what you did and why you did it."

Bielman's shackled hands curl tightly into fists. "Stupid n****** bitches! They come to the city. They steal our jobs and get government handouts for their bastard children. Then they get promotions while real Americans get left behind. I busted my ass at Shop-a-lot. They got moved up while I was shoved down. We should have sent them all back where they came from - or to Hell."

Castle puts a hand on Winston's arm as his friend goes rigid. "He's an asshole, blaming others because he didn't have what it took. Your mother wasn't a person to him, just a symbol of his own failure."

Winston slams his fist against the glass. "I just want to punch his face in until nothing else can come out of his mouth."

"Yeah, I know - more than you would believe. But with what Kate is getting out of him, she can make sure he's put away for good. And trust me, with the abominations he spews, he will regret it - excruciatingly."

Castle flicks off the intercom and Winston turns his back on the view. "Castle, I wish I could be there to watch that happen."

Rick throws his arm around Winston's shoulders. "Yeah, Buddy, I know exactly what you mean."

* * *

The aroma of the savory meat sauce she is simmering drifts in from the kitchen as Kate props her chin on Castle's shoulder while he studies the image on his laptop. "An Ohio newspaper?"

Rick reaches up to caress her cheek. "I set an alert for mentions of Don Epstein. He's dead, Kate, but before he died, he sent a letter to the Beacon Journal. It's an admission of his crimes, the ones he can remember. No names - not even mine - but times, dates, places."

"Maybe that was his way of trying to redeem himself."

Castle closes his eyes, shaking his head. "Redemption should take a lot more than a deathbed confession. But I'll make sure this is publicized across the country. His words may give some of his victims a measure of peace."

"Are they giving you any?" Kate asks.

A hint of a smile twitches Castle's lips. "If I picture him being jabbed you-know-where by a loathsome demon with a barbed pitchfork. At least now I can be sure that he'll never hurt anyone again. That's worth a lot."

"Ready for an early dinner?" Kate asks. "The florist you hired for our wedding is supposed to be here in an hour for our final approval of her arrangements, the bouquets, and the boutonnieres."

Castle checks the time at the bottom of his screen. "Bring on the pasta! And we can share the cannoli with our authority on blooming beauty - if between you, me and Alexis, there are any left."

* * *

Kate pushes the start button on the dishwasher as Castle comes through the door of the loft following a joyful Custos. "Looks like you two had a good time."

"We did. I think all the scents that drifted around our floral guru when we introduced her to him made him long for a good romp on something other than New York sidewalks. I took him to the park. The kids there, catching the last of the sun, were in awe of him. They couldn't keep their hands off all that fur, and he reveled in it. Their parents were a little wary until they were sure he wasn't going to hurt their offspring but big as he is, the little ones weren't afraid at all. All the literature said as much, but it was wonderful to see how gentle he is with tiny children. If we ever have any rug rats, he'll be great with them. And they'll be the safest kids on the planet."

Grooves bracket the bridge of Kate's nose. "Babe, you're thinking about children? We aren't even married yet."

"We will be soon enough - almost soon enough. Now would be fine with me. But Kate, I said 'if.' That's a decision for you. I have the most incredible daughter in the world, and the love of my life is about to become my wife. I couldn't ask for more than that. But children who are part of you would be amazing, magical. Bringing them into the world would be miraculous. And the last time we had dinner with your Dad, he did say something about how great it would be to be able to take grandchildren to a Yankees game. Personally, I would prefer a crew of mini Princess Leahs and Han Solos, to lead through the wonders at a con, but to each his own. So have you thought about it?"

"A little bit," Kate confides, "since we started talking about Out of the Cold. I couldn't see being able to do my job as a homicide cop and still having enough time to give children the attention they deserve. I know how hard my mom and my dad both worked on arranging their schedules around me, and they didn't have to follow the rules of the N.Y.P.D. But working with Out of the Cold should be more flexible."

"And there is room in the building for a childcare center." Castle points out.

Kate grins at him. "Yes, there is. But before we worry about that, let's get through our wedding ceremony first."

Rick draws her against him kissing her hair. "Can't wait."


	54. Chapter 54

Shattered Lies

Chapter 54

The hum of the blower inflating the portable rooftop shelter defies the threatening skies. The catering staff has efficiently set up tables inside while the florist makes a last minute check of the flowery arch that will surround Kate and Rick. Accompanied by Miniver, Custos stands guard attentively at the edge of the proceedings.

Jackson surveys the scene from the top floor of a nearby building. Damn! He was hoping he'd get to watch the wedding, but the rubberized dome is completely blocking his view. It will take a little doing, but he can still keep eyes on the celebration.

After descending from his vantage point, he observes the activities at the catering vans. Busily transporting platters and chafing dishes, the workers leave their vehicles locked but unattended. With any luck…

Using a scanner to determine the keycode Jackson peers in the back door of a truck. Just what he needs - a stack of extra aprons and matching bow ties. He grabs one of each and enters the building, fingering a device in his pocket.

Miniver scratches Custos behind the ears as the dog yips, expecting to see a member of the Castle family appear. Jackson goes otherwise unnoticed as he plants his tiny video camera on an inner fabric wall. Custos yips again as Hunt slips away.

Jackson checks the screen of his phone. Just the feed he wants. The timing of Richard's nuptials is cutting it close. Hunt leaves for the Ukraine tomorrow, but he'll have his record of the ceremony to take with him for empty moments on his mission.

* * *

The single cello Kate requested plays the Pachelbel Canon as Lanie precedes her and Jim Beckett down an aisle covered in white satin and chrysanthemum petals. Flanked by Winston Bergeron, Castle is riveted by her approach. She is wearing Johanna Beckett's wedding dress, but it fits Kate as if it was designed for her. Loose locks of her hair frame her face as a veil sweeps down her back.

Bob Weldon clears his throat as Jim delivers his daughter to stand beside her groom. "We are gathered here today to celebrate the joining of Katherine Houghton Beckett and Richard Edgar Castle. The story of this couple would be longer than a shelf of Castle's books, and pieces of it will no doubt appear in some of them. There is no need for me to recount it here. Just know, that Rick and Kate now stand before you, ready to devote every moment of their lives to each other. They are also celebrating the launch of Kate's dream to bring comfort and peace to those whose prayers for answers have gone unanswered too long. Those of you who know Kate understand that she is too independent to use anyone else's lines in her vows, and Rick's words are always uniquely crafted."

Weldon pauses as the laughter that ripples through the guests fades away. "Kate, now is the time to share your pledge with Rick in full witness of the friends and family present here in love and support."

Kate locks eyes with Castle as she begins. "Rick, your words were my comfort, my lifeline to cling to when my world was falling apart. When we began to work together, I was never sure if I wanted to kick you or kiss you. Sometimes I'm still not. But I know this, beneath the carefree raconteur, is a man who willingly laid down his life for me, and I want nothing more than to spend my life with you. I know too well that everything can change in an instant, but whatever comes next, I want to face it with you. I promise to be your partner, your friend, and to love you with all my heart through whatever the future brings." Kate turns to Lanie who hands her a simple gold band, and she slides it onto Castle's finger. "With this ring, I thee wed."

Weldon nods at Rick, who smiles at his bride, enfolding her hands in his own. "Kate, when you flashed your badge in my face at my book party, you dazzled my eyes and captured my heart." He winks at Weldon. "I would have gladly given a lot more than a case of scotch for the privilege of dogging your footsteps and worming my way into your life. You haunted my every dream and inhabited my every hope and imagining. You inspired me to find words I never thought I'd write and strength I never knew I'd have. I want nothing more than to be at your side, to work, play, and love together, for all the days of our lives. I vow to love you, support you, and hold you in my arms and my heart, through whatever the time ahead brings." To enhance the promise crafted by Callie Lowell, Winston hands Castle a matching band of intertwined gold strands, studded with fiery stones. "With this ring, I thee wed."

Bob Weldon grins at the crowd. "I would tell Rick that he can now kiss the bride, but I see that he's already taken matters in hand. Ladies and gentlemen, I introduce to you, Mr. and Mrs. Beckett-Castle."

At the DJ's touch of a needle to vinyl, Etta James' soulful rendition of "At Last" drifts over the crowd as Winston invites the assemblage to eat drink and be merry.

Jackson wipes the moisture from his eyes, cursing allergies, as the image on his phone blurs.

Epilogue

Kate has been dragging for months. The morning sickness hasn't been that bad, and Castle has been cooking up all sorts of special treats to assure himself that she's getting the proper nutrition, but she's still been tired. At her monthly checkups, her OB-Gyn has pronounced everything normal and counseled that she'll soon feel more energetic. Whether she does or not, Kate is determined to push through.

Requests have come in from all over the country from families who've been waiting years, sometimes over half a century, to find answers to the deaths of their loved ones. She put Montgomery on recruitment duty, picking out the best and the brightest of detectives old and new. The labs are fully staffed, and Clark Murray gleefully approved the chapter Castle wrote introducing the endlessly talented Dr. Pavarotti.

Some of Don Epstein's victims have surfaced, sending grateful letters to Castle and to Out of the Cold for helping them get on with their lives. They are bittersweet for Rick, but he seems glad to receive them. He's also been assembling a collection of every catalog he can find of baby clothes, baby furniture, and baby toys. He proudly invested in a crowdfunding campaign to produce diapers that are not only fully biodegradable but supposedly combat the worst of baby essences. Kate will believe that when she smells it.

At four months, she barely shows. Her favorite jeans are no longer comfortable, but she's not quite ready for maternity clothes - no matter how well designed. She slips into the teddy that Rick swears that she still looks terrific wearing. She suspects that he'd claim that she'd look sexy dressed as Jabba the Hutt. That he might even believe it, is endearing.

Kate climbs between the sheets, appreciating the coolness against her skin, and waiting for Rick to emerge from his office, where he'd hurried in T-shirt and shorts to write down a new murder scenario while it was fresh in his mind. She hears the snap of the lid of his laptop before he traverses the few steps to join her in bed. Kate snuggles against Rick's shoulder. "All done?"

"I got the method of the victim's demise down. This one might even perplex Murray's alter-ego for a while. Now I have to figure out which of my characters is capable of - what's the matter?"

Kate guides his hand toward her still flat belly. "Nothing. Nothing at all. I just think I felt the baby move."

Finis?

A/N It's Castle Ficathon time again. It started Monday, but I put off getting into it because I wanted to get Rick and Kate to this point. I'll pick up with a new story, starting some months later, in the same universe, as my summer entry. Join me tomorrow for "Chipping Through the Ice." Thanks for hanging around. Love, Sally


End file.
